#it has been upwards of 7 years now and i am STILL thinking about the differences in the way tht denée and phillipa sing this song......

[dykexenomorph]

they were crazy for this. btw.

[azsazz]

Change Your Ticket (Part 7)

Rugby Star!Cassian x Reader (A Modern AU)

Summary: Dating famous rugby star Cassian Bailey is a dream. What's not one is keeping your secret relationship under wraps. Will you and Cassian be able to keep from the limelight or will your relationship crumble because of it?

Warnings: ALL SMUT, shower sex, oral (f receiving)

Word Count: 3,405

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

Notes: Starting of 6 updates for 6k with this one because it's been way too long for rugby cassian 💙

_________________________________________

“Well, I’d planned on making you something extravagant,” Cassian says, frowning down at his phone. You wonder if it’s something related to your picture appearing in the media, but your shoulders loosen as his continues. “But I didn’t make it to the store before coming here. Is pizza okay with you, (Y/N)?”

“Pizza is more than perfect,” you sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder. You’re both sitting at your kitchen island, glasses of wine filled to the brim. “I don’t feel like cooking tonight.”

You watch as Cassian places the order. You grumbled about how two pizzas were too much, and he’d reminded you just how much he needs to eat as a rugby player.

“I don’t think they meant that about pizza, Cassian,” you tut, bringing your glass to your lips for a sip of sweet wine. His eyes glitter when he looks down at you, stirring that feeling of want in your gut.

He shrugs, “I think that whatever my trainer doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” Cassian pushes from his chair, taking your hand. “C’mon, let’s have a relaxing shower, wash the day off of us.”

As blissful as that sounds, you’re not sure you’ll be able to join. “What about the pizza?”

Cassian tugs on your hand a little, more than ready to abandon the kitchen in favor of getting you into the shower with him.

“We’ll make it quick, be out before they get here.”

“Nothing involving you or showers is ever quick, babe.” You roll your eyes and he winks.

“Then, hopefully he has the common sense to leave it at the door because there’s no way I’m letting you go right now. You can accept my stink until after we eat or I can eat you out in the shower while you shampoo my hair. What do you say, baby? I am pretty smelly.”

His words slide down your body like soap, bubbling between your thighs.

Cassian leans down, peppering kisses across your face. The action make you giggle, setting down your glass in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck. He does smell, but it’s the musk of his sweat and it makes your thighs clench, arousal making your cunt wet.

You squeal as he lifts you into his arms with ease. He’s strong, and you can feel the way the muscles packing his back bow and flex when he lifts you. Gods, does he have the perfect body.

You kiss along his neck as he walks, licking up the salt from his skin. It makes Cassian shiver; his fingers press harder into your flesh. He breathes out a curse when you bite, then suckle at the perfectly tanned skin beneath your teeth.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, kicking the door to the bathroom shut behind him. “I’m so fucking hard for you.”

His words have you moaning in response and your fingers find his hair, tugging the ponytail out before burying your fingers in his still-damp strands. It’s tangled from his practice but Cassian likes the pull, making a noise of pleasure in response to your desperation.

Your lips find his a moment later.

Cassian sits you on the edge of the counter but you’re not ready for him to pull away yet, wrapping your legs around his waist to haul him closer. His hands slide from your hips upwards, thumbs brushing across your pert nipples where they’re pressing hard against the fabric of your shirt.

His ministrations continue upward until he’s grasping your jaw between both of his large hands and dipping his tongue into your mouth in a claiming kiss. His fingers thread through your hair and he devours you like you haven’t seen each other in years.

Like you’ve just admitted to him for the first time that you love him.

You can’t hold in the whimper he sucks from your mouth as his tongue brushes yours. It’s a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing with each other as you drag your hands down his muscular chest.

Cassian bucks his hips a little, the strain of his cock in his pants heavy with need. He’s completely focused on ravaging your mouth, but he sneaks his hand down your body, dipping into the waistband of the sweats you had changed into upon arriving home, and flattens his hand against your heat.

“Touch me,” you beg, unable to resist your boyfriend, rocking desperately against his hand.

He does as you say, teasing his middle finger into your wetness. It slides in with ease and you keen at his touch, the palm of his hand grinding against your clit when his finger enters you all of the way.

You’ve missed this, missed his fingers brushing against your skin, touching you and tasting you in the places you both love the most. It’s been too long since you’ve been in his arms like this, even if it had only been this morning, you were holding each other so close. It seems like a million hours away now, with the draining day you’ve both shared. But you’re together now, and you know that Cassian will be by your side throughout the entirety of this media hellscape you’ve found yourself in the center of.

He pulls his finger out slowly, teasing you with it, in and out and in again until you’re a keening mess in his arms, cunt dripping into the palm of his hand and nails scratching down his fabric covered chest for more.

“Easy now, baby,” His breath is warm against your lips. His taunt is paired with a circle of your clit and your body presses further into his in response. “We haven’t even gotten you all wet, yet.”

“’M so wet for you,” you mumble your disagreement, kissing him between words. “Please!”

Cassian laughs against your lips and it sparks sunshine in your chest. You need to feel that chuckle against your skin, that mouth against your cunt.

You cry out sharply when Cassian removes his fingers from your pants. He’s pecking you softly, murmuring sweet words that keep you all worked up as he slides your shirt up your torso.

His name leaves your lips on a breathy moan when he ducks back down after removing your shirt, lips attached to that sweet spot on your throat that makes you melt. His touch turns more aggressive as he undoes your bra, his lips following where his fingers are removing it from your chest and flinging it over his shoulder.

Sucking one of your nipples into his mouth makes your see stars. You throw your head back in pleasure as he massages your free breast, kneading it with his rough hand.

You arch into his body when he rolls your tight nipple between his teeth. He loves the way your fingers dig into his shoulders in response and all he wants to do right now is get down on his knees, throw your legs over his shoulders, and taste your cunt like he’s been thinking of doing all day.

The morning session he’d spent in your bed didn’t sate him in the slightest. It only made him hungrier for you.

“Cass,” you hiss when he begins kissing across the skin of your stomach. His tongue lathes around your navel as he works your sweats from your hips, nipping, sucking at the expanse of skin that appears, fresh for him to mark. “Hurry up, baby. I need you.”

You shift your hips and kick your legs, helping him rid you of the rest of your clothes. Cassian groans like a man felled in war, utterly weak for you.

His hands part your thighs, fingers spreading your lips so he can get a full view of your fluttering, wet cunt. His hazel eyes are bright with arousal, and he licks his lips, tutting when you slide your hips closer, needing his mouth on you.

The tip of Cassian’s tongue brushes ever so lightly against your clit that it has you howling with pleasure. It zips up your spine like fire and you arch away from the counter, but he’s pulling away completely, his warmth lost from your body.

“Baby,” you plead, eyes going wide. You hadn’t realized they’d fallen shut with the first caress of his tongue on your cunt, and they open to the view of Cassian ripping his shirt over his head as fast as he can. Before the fabric even hits the ground he’s already working at his pants, stumbling a few steps to the side and reaching into your shower to start the spray.

“I’m coming, sweetheart. Be good for me.”

Like you could be anything else but good for him. You release a pleased sigh, lids lowering over your eyes as you watch the love of your life flailing around the bathroom, setting the water on high as he struggles at the same time to hop out of his pants.

Your mouth waters when his cock is finally released for the tight confines of his sweats. It bobs, slapping against his tight abdomen, and it’s already thick and full, pink and beading precum at the tip, ready for you.

“Come here, stinky,” you reach out to Cassian, still leaning back against the mirror. Splayed out like this, all his for the taking…Gods, he’s never loved you more.

He’s drawn to you like the sun is drawn to the moon, like love to a cupid. In three great strides he’s pressing back up against you, slanting his lips over yours in another hot kiss.

You arch off of the mirror, your hands finding his body thoughtlessly, as if a magnet is pulling you in. His cock nudges against your folds and you’re gasping against his mouth as Cassian pulls you fully off of the counter and into his arms.

You hold tightly to him, crossing your legs behind his back. Cassian keeps you suspended right above his cock and with every step he takes it teases you, a brush of warmth against your wet cunt. You keen against his mouth, nipping his lip in frustration, but the man only laughs in response.

“Oh, how I love when you beg, baby,” he says, distracted by kissing the skin of your throat. He steps into the hot spray and you hiss, surprised. “Go on, grab that bottle of shampoo over there. I have a promise to keep.”

Gently, Cassian sets you on your feet. Your legs are shaking and he doesn’t let you go, instead sliding his hands down your body, following the lines of warm water as it drips down. His touch is searing, more so than the rain pouring from the showerhead and the sight of him sliding to his knees before you nearly makes you cum, untouched.

He looks up at you with hazel eyes, raising a brow. You don’t know how long you’ll be able to hold yourself together if he’s looking up at you like this. He’s waiting, a silent demand in that heady gaze that has you snatching the nearest shampoo bottle from your shelf. Cassian hums in appreciation, hearing the top snap open, and he taps your thighs, a signal for you to open them wider.

You obey, because you need to feel his mouth on your cunt, his fingers plunging into your wet heat. You squeeze some of the soap into your hands before he can begin, because you know there will be no focusing once he’s laid those pretty lips upon you.

There’s hardly any focusing right now as you look down at him. The expanse of his tanned, broad shoulders and dripping hair plastered to them. You have the perfect view of his thick thighs, powerful where he kneels. He is every bit of a stature right now, one built outside of temples that people used to worship.

Just like how you’ll be worshipping him tonight.

Rubbing your hands together to activate the suds, you dig your fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp with brash strokes. Cassian’s groan bounces deliciously against the tiles and you’re guiding him forward, straight to your weeping cunt.

You shout when he gets right to work, tongue scraping against your clit before he’s craning his neck and plunging it deep into your cunt. You choke, fingers faltering in his hair but he’s growling, large hands pushing your thighs further apart so he can dig his face further.

His nose digs into your clit and you whine, grinding your hips against his face. You don’t think your hands are moving besides where they’re clutching his locks tightly. Cassian fucks you with his tongue and you throw your head back, the motion smashing your skull into the tiles behind.

“Fuck,” you whimper, but the pleasure drowns out the throbbing in your head. Water skims down your body, its warmth satisfying against your sensitive nipples. The room is filled with steam already and it’s a struggle to take the laboring breaths you need to with Cassian’s tongue stuck so deep. “Right there, baby.”

Cassian listens, drinking down your wetness like a parched man. He’s thirsty for your taste, for the way that your body responds to his, for your words. Every sound that you make sends shockwaves to his cock. He’s desperate to get a hand on himself but he wants you to cum first. Needs you to cum first.

He sneaks a finger to your cunt, replacing his tongue with his thick digit. You sink lower, your feet slipping on the tiles but Cassian is holding you up without an ounce of effort. He’s much too concerned with making you feel good, suckling at your clit with a hum when your nails rake through his hair, letting him know he’s doing a good job.

The downstroke of his index finger turns into an upstroke with his middle and you keen at the feeling of more. He feels so good, knowing right where to touch, the bundle to caress and curve his fingers against so that you’re a shaking mess. Heat gathers low in your gut when he brushes against that spot again before pushing his fingers deep and hitting your womb.

“Cassian,” his name is a cry, a prayer. You can’t form words beyond that with the feeling so hot, so tight in your loins. He begins moving his fingers faster, fucking them in and out of you with vigor. “I’m cumming, baby! Keep doing that—” your breath catches in your throat as you see white hot, orgasm flooding you. Your fingers turn harsher against his scalp but you don’t even notice because Cassian’s picking up the pace even more. “Yeah, yeah, yeah!”

Your boyfriend doesn’t stop. Doesn’t stop flicking his tongue against your clit because the noises you’re making right now are music to his fucking ears. Doesn’t stop pushing his fingers into your cunt even though he has to use a touch more effort now that you’re trying to clamp down around his fingers like some wicked trap. He’s been waiting all day for this and he’s going to revel in it, even if you’re already whining from sensitivity.

When you’re squirming, begging him to pull away, he does.

“Have I satisfied you, sweetheart?” he asks, leaning back only slightly. Your hands fall from his hair to his shoulders as he presses light kisses to your thighs, rubbing light circles into them with his thumbs to ease their quaking. “Or are you all ready for my cock now?” Cassian tilts his head back to look at you but hisses as the water falling from the showerhead washes soap into his eyes. “Oh, fuck! Ow, ow ow!” He rears back, nearly losing his balance completely as he slips.

Your hands find him, coaxing him under the water. Your chest still heaves with your orgasm, but you brush the hair from his face and lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder while he tries to rub the soap from his eyes.

“Are you alright, Cass?”

He groans in response, trying to blink the sting from his eyes. They’re all red rimmed now, and when his vision clears, it’s to you biting back your laughter.

“At the time, I thought that was going to be so hot,” Cassian admits with a huff, but you see the smile cracking his lips.

“At the time,” you tease, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “It was.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The pizza is good but the sex that follows is even better.

Cassian is gentle with you, loving you like he had the first time you’d ever slept together; caring and tender. He takes his time mapping his way across the planes of your skin with his hands, with his mouth, tracing the hills and valleys of your body like he has all of the time in the world.

And you let him, not because you already know you’re dodging your work tomorrow, but because anything that this man does utterly enraptures you.

It’s passionate and slow, each roll of his hips sensual and intentional. The words he presses into your skin are soft and meaningful, ones that bring tears to your eyes. You don’t know how someone who has been through as much as he has can love you so openly like this, and you’re thankful every day for it.

“I love you, Cassian,” you exhale, fingers raking down the expanse of his back as you try to hold him closer. Your back arches off of the bed and you throw your head back in bliss, sparks igniting behind your eyes with every thrust of his hips.

Cassian peeks his head up from where it’s buried between your breasts, licking and sucking his way from one nipple to your other. They’re hard as rubies, red like them too, surrounded by mottled marks left by his mouth.

His hazel eyes are dazed, sparkling with adoration. Your chest constricts as your heart swells with joy, with love for the man willing to rush to your side and make sure you’re okay. He’s shown you that you’re his first priority in all of this, that he will put you before even the game he loves so dearly.

He surges forward with a brutal thrust of his hips that has you seeing stars. He loves the way that you clutch him as if you never want to let go. He won’t ever let you go either, and that thought only has him more ravenous for you.

Cassian catches your cry of pleasure against his lips. You taste like a dream, in more ways than one. His strong arms snake surround your body and you squeal as he rolls, holding you tightly on top of him while he plants his feet into the mattress and fucks up into you.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he pants against your mouth. “Want to take care of you like this every day. Fuck you so good you won’t be able to run away.” His hips jerk and he’s hitting that spot that sends a tsunami of pleasure throughout your body.

Roughly, he grabs your ass, helping you move yourself up and down his cock to prolong your pleasure. It’s so good, he’s so hot and long inside of you, his girth filling you completely but it’s not enough, you want his cum too.

“Never,” you gasp, riding out the orgasm that’s wracking your body. “I’m never leaving you, Cassian. Never ever. I love you too much for that.”

It those words that have him growling, sucking harshly at the juncture of your throat and shoulder as he cums. His warmth fills you to the brim, and you’re shuddering on top of him from the pleasure of it all, collapsing against his chest when the grinding of his hips comes to a halt.

Cassian doesn’t pull you though, and you don’t want him to. You want him to keep you plugged up with his cum inside of you. You’re on the pill and normally you’d be more worried that he’s not wearing a condom, because the pill isn’t 100% effective, but you needed to feel his bare cock buried deeply into you tonight, need to feel his warmth in your cunt and leaking down your thighs.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Cassian breathes, brushing a strand of damp hair behind your ear. You’ve already showered but you’ll both need another when you feel like finally getting up. “Until the moon no longer rises.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Change Your Ticket Taglist: @justasillylittlegoofyguy @starsinyourseyes @jdeclerc @indiedash @kennedy-brooke @tothestarsandwhateverend @azsteris @obsessivereaderchick @aalxrose @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielover @bookishbroadwaybish @itsinherited @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @vellichor01 @mischiefmanagers @queerqueenlynn @justdreamstars @mayemperess @wallacewillow0773638 @microwaveallthedemons @natashachelsea @stayinglow-exploringworlds

[beansprean]

Queening the Pawn Act 2 Part 6

Act 1

Act 2: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up of Nandor, tensed with shoulders up by his ears, grimacing slightly as he peeks one eye open. Offscreen, Guillermo sighs and grumbles "You're such a dick sometimes..." 1b. Reverse shot of Guillermo, body and head turned away from the viewer with one knee up on the couch and his opposite arm propped on the back. 1c. Close up of Nandor, now deeming it safe to open both eyes. He stares at Guillermo's back with apprehension and a complicated longing.

2a. Sepia toned panel showing Nadja and Laszlo in 1920s evening wear standing with arms around each other's waists. Nadja has her free hand on her hip and Laszlo's is in his pocket. They are looking down at Nandor with mixed pity and irritation. Nandor, wearing a fur coat and boots over a striped suit, is sitting on the ground with his legs stretched out and head slumped down, hair covering his face, staring at his open palms in his lap. Past Laszlo says, "This is what happens when you get attached to Familiar's, Nandor. Past Nadja says, "Humans are always temporary, you sweet stupid baby." Nandor talks over them from the present: "Laszlo and Nadja...say I get too attached." 2b. Close up on Guillermo, starting to turn in his seat to look back at Nandor, asking, "What does tha-" Nandor interrupts him from offscreen, snapping, "Turn your head, Guillermo!" 2c. Guillermo obliges, whipping his head back to face the wall with an irritated grumble. 2d. Close up of Nandor. Offscreen, Guillermo repeats, "What does that mean, Nandor?" Nandor stares at his lap, frustrated and embarrassed, replying, "Exactly what I have said!"

3. More sepia toned panels from the past, showing a string of former familiars. The first, an older white redheaded woman in a 1690s dress and hat, smiling politely at the viewer, saying "Oh, you're here. Has it really been so long?" The second, a white man with a neat goatee in a Victorian suit and tails, tipping his top hat down over his eyes with a fanged smile, saying "See ya, Mas- Nandor." The third, a plump young brown woman in a 1910s suitcoat, hat, and pearls, smiling beseechingly upward with newly minted fangs and saying "I promise I will write." The fourth is a young Benji in a loud 70s patterned shirt, polishing Nandor's white platform boogie boots with a faraway smile. He declares, "And when I'm a vampire, I'm finally gonna get out of Staten Island!" The fifth is a black woman wearing 90s overalls with long relaxed hair under a bandana, laughing uncomfortably and waving her hand dismissively at the viewer. She says, "Oh, haha, noooo. I mean, this place is great and all, but there's so much I want to do!" Nandor's voice from the present continues: "I get attached to these humans and I like them and... They never want to stick around!"

4a. A sepia toned Nandor from the past, reaching a hand out toward the viewer and saying, "I think you are deserving of a reward..." Nandor's voiceover from the present continues, the speech bubble eclipsing past Nandor's face: "So... I decided to just erase myself from their minds." 4b. Close up of Guillermo, face still turned toward the wall but clearly listening as Nandor continues, "I send them back to their lives before me and find a new familiar and decide to forget about them..." 4c. Reverse shot of Nandor, slumping forward in his chair, with a self depreciating grimace, eyes closed. He finishes his sentence: "...before I am to be getting so pathetic about it." 4d. Close up of Nandor in profile as he opens his eyes to stare at the floor, saying, "But...you..." He furrows his brow, trying to organize his thoughts. A flash of Guillermo from ten years ago flashes behind him, opening his collar and promising forever with a smile. 4e. Shot of Nandor from the front, hands folded together awkwardly in his lap. He looks up with large vulnerable eyes, still tense across his shoulders, as Guillermo finishes for him: "I was going to stay." 4f. Reverse shot of Guillermo on the couch, still turned away, his hand picking thoughtfully at the tassels on one of the many throw pillows. Offscreen, Nandor hesitantly responds, "...Yes." /end ID

[quarantineddreamer]

7 for the prompt thingy? 👀

Okay, soooo I know you know this, but for others: I've been writing a roadtrip au for rebelcaptain and I'm gonna cheat a little and use a snippet for this prompt 😅🚘 (Eli, I hope maybe this is a new bit for you too!)

things you said while we were driving

[bit of context: “How about a question for a question–sound fair enough?" Cassian tried again, apparently not easily deterred by the shuttered look on her face. "You can give as little or as much information as you want. I promise I won’t pry.”]

“Alright, you owe me a few questions now,” Cassian declared with a cheeky, slanted smile that made Jyn’s stomach flutter in more ways than one.

“Two I think,” she replied, rewinding their talk in her mind. “I answered your questions about visiting the Outer Hebrides and if I’d seen puffins.” 

He raised an eyebrow, “You’re seriously keeping score?”

“You’re not?”

“I am now,” he chuckled. 

“What, you don’t trust me?”

Cassian lifted a hand from the wheel to briefly point at her, “I’m counting that as a question.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jyn exclaimed, indignant, but without any real heat to her tone. The banter rolled easily off her tongue, natural and loose in a way that she had not experienced with anyone outside of her best friend in years.

“That counts too,” Cassian clicked. 

“How did I end up in a car with the most annoying man in the U.K.?” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. 

“That’s another. You really want to keep going like this?”

“Ha!” Jyn shouted, straightening in her seat so quickly that her seatbelt jerked at her chest. “That’s one against you.”

“It’s not meant to be a competition!” 

“Everything’s a competition,” she said, settling contentedly back into her seat.

“Apparently so,” he said, still with a slight smile. “Are you this combative with everyone?”

“Only people I’ve just met who are driving me cross country,” she replied, adding his question to her mental scoreboard. 

The quick buzz of her phone cut in, momentarily pulling Cassian’s focus away from whatever he had opened his mouth to say. He inclined his head in the general direction of the device. “Is that your friend again?”

She’d been enjoying not thinking about any of it, allowing herself to get caught up in the warmth of Cassian’s laugh, the rapid volley of nonsense back and forth between them. Nothing significant, an escape from reality. She sighed, “Probably.”

“And…how long have you guys been dating?”

Jyn let out a cough of surprise, fighting a laugh, unsure what to say. She steadied herself with teasing, “Smooth, very smooth. He’s not my boyfriend.” Her mind began to wander towards questions she wasn’t certain it was safe to ask–not given what she found herself wanting the answers to be–but before she could silence them the words were already leaving her mouth. “Do you need me to send a text to your significant other for you while you’re driving?”

Cassian’s lips quirked upwards, and though it was hard to tell in the dim light of the car, she could’ve sworn there was color to his cheeks–which only served to deepen the pink she felt rising on her own. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he told her steadily. 

Suddenly, it no longer felt like they were playing. 

Jyn pulled her phone out of her pocket, ignoring how the car now felt too warm–her jacket stifling and restrictive–Cassian too close, too tempting.

[elisethetraveller]

Stuff under a read more because slight negativity

So just prefacing with this is not minded at anyone or any one occurrence but rather a recurring theme of rp’ing this character for +5 years and needing to vent so with that in mind…

I get so tired of the weird dance that is having to make the first move versus not being too much.

I think it’s a more-or-less well acknowledged fact that writers of female OC’s (and OC’s at large) on Tumblr occasionally have a hard time finding rp partners. Much cleverer people than me have written about this in much greater detail than I can manage.

What I particularly have noticed in my years of rp with Elise, and which frustrates me endlessly now that I have spotted the pattern, is this dance or “loop” that happens, at least to me. Let me lay it out.

Step 1. Roleplaying begins and you (mun) reaches out to people who you might be interested in writing with while also chatting with the (often few) people who want to write with your muse

Step 2. Mun realizes that a lot of effort has to be put in to finding people who want to rp with you (customary preface of no one owes anyone interactions here but I feel like frustration can still co-exist with this sentiment)

Step 3. Muse begins to be ingrained in a few rps but a lot of work has to be done to keep muse relevant, often (not always) disproportionately to how much interest rp partners put into connecting with your muse

Step 4. Things run smoothly!

Step 5. Things run “too smoothly” and one part ends up burning out or the other ends up feeling pressured/stressed by the level of engagement (which, again, both are fair and people should take any necessary steps to ensure they are comfortable)

Step 6. Lot of self-doubt as a new balancing act has to be made between keeping muse relevant through engagement but also ensuring no one burns out or feels pressured

Step 7. General blog activity falls, sometimes drastically.

Like I have been through this cycle upwards of 3 or 4 times now. And again, I want to reiterate that it is no one person’s doing or fault or anything of the sort. However, it is frustrating and as I once again feel like I am picking up the pieces in step 6 and 7 I genuinely wonder if there is something deeply wrong with how I do things.

I have tried not being active in reaching out to people, but in my experience as an oc writer you have to reach out if you want people to write with you. (And I might be wrong in that assessment but 99% of long term rp relations I have and have had started with me reaching out).

I have tried writing with people with minor ooc talk which honestly led to a lot of miscommunication and confusion on both sides.

I have tried self-moderation (which I admit I can be bad at, something to do with step 2-3 but also just general excitement levels).

So now I want to try asking for advice.

I know I have mutuals with more rp experience than me. Mutuals with more social graces.

What should I do? Or not do, for that matter?

How do I stop this from happening again and again?

Do I need to change the way I approach rp? If so, how?

Is something wrong with the way or what I write? How can it be fixed? Should it be fixed or should I just drop it all?

I will be forever thankful for any advice, long or short.

Anon is on for those who would prefer for any advice to be given anonymously.

[masked-disciple]

Ok friend you have my curiosity where is this fic you speak of. I am SO ready to have my brain chemistry fundamentally changed

Start here. My recommendation is to read that, maybe read the rest of Turnabout NaNoWriMo, and if you want to know more after that, I can hand you some 200k of fic that is properly formatted with the interludes, because Ao3's formatting really doesn't work with the Sagiverse anthologies. (So what you see here is maybe like a quarter of what we've got. We have a lot, and also lots of art.)

Turnabout NaNoWriMo is the first of three-and-a-half anthologies I've written, and it's only after reading and enjoying all of them do I let people at my fiance's anthologies, which are excellent but a bit more private. (Turnabout Runaways, which was this year's NaNo challenge, is incomplete but at least 50k. I will be slowly working on it probably for a few months, and eventually it'll be done.)

These anthologies take place in a greater crossover AU we refer to as Sagiverse. It started in 2020 in Saint Seiya, and now hosts several different series, eight hundred some-odd characters, upwards of thirty different fantasy worlds (of which Earth is only one), and more plotlines than we can keep track of properly.

Here's the two-sentence pitch: seven hundred years ago, there was a giant war between various magical factions on Earth that ended in a mostly-forgotten pyrrhic victory and the gods choosing to seal magic away from the world. So magic began to slowly die out, and as of present day, magic is rarer and rarer, and mage society is dying out, but it's still holding on as best it can, until one day the gods finally allow magic to return.

Ace Attorney gets involved with this very very simply. Miles Edgeworth is a mage. To be specific, he's a necromage, one of the most powerful currently active on Earth. His father, Gregory Atticus Edgeworth, had never found proof of magic while he was alive. His mother... well, no one knows who his mother is, or anything about the man at all. After DL-6, Miles was taken in by MvK as a ward just as canon says, but the von Karmas themselves are magi of a kind. After DL-6, Atticus finds the proof of magic's existence that he's been looking for all along, and he is not going to leave his son and missing fiance alone in a world that so very much wants the both of them dead.

And so begins a thirty-five year trainwreck to put their wayward, way-finding family back together. They'll do it, no matter what it takes. It just turns out their family's a little bigger than they think it is.

The fic I linked pretty much opens with the identity of Miles' mother, which you learn pretty much as I did, because I didn't plan jack or shit, only let him tell me what was going on. You may raise an eyebrow at the canon ages, don't worry about that. We had to fix the timeline anyway (because the forensics tech was all twenty years out of date so we just changed the years to be twenty years earlier, setting DL-6 on December 28th 1981) so we just didn't pull him back as far. Atticus died at 39, his fiance was 33.

This is because when I first got into AA, I found the IS-7 picture of Gregory and Ray, and I sort of mistook 18-year-old Ray as Atticus' wife. My fiance pointed out the age gap, paused, and went "but they're cute so I'm sure we can make it work" and then we did. If you hesitate a bit on the ship but don't immediately hate the idea, I promise I can sell you on it. At the end of the day, everything comes back to Atticus and Ray's tragic romance. This I can promise you: it ends happily. We're just still writing everything in between.

Sagiverse!Ray is a pretty distinct character from canon!Ray, but they're close enough that if you like one you'll probably like the other. I gave him way more trauma and it's fun. :3c

If you're wondering what happens to other characters, I can answer that. Apollo is dead for a few months, Phoenix a little bit longer. Robot!Athena has Issues. Franziska changes her career from Interpol to Magica Underground mostly because it's a better use of her legal talents. Miles gets to be the chosen one and lead a war against one of his university friends who unfortunately (and semi-accidentally) stole Phoenix's corpse and ran away with it. (Phoenix is fine, don't worry about it.) Atticus gets to be a bounty hunter on the ghostroads with Mia and they do a lot of shooting MvK and causing problems. Ray, uh. Well, at least he only got shot in the head twice?

[somanywords]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

huge hug to @spookyklaine for the tag! <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

11 right now, but i aim to get at least one more out before new years!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

187,762! i am a baby fic writer ;)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

marvel (stevebucky, clintasha, and 1 ant man fic), newsies (javid), and six of crows

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Another Song, Another Spring (stevebucky)

Marry Me (stevebucky)

say it soft and it's almost like praying (stevebucky)

Misplaced Pencils (stevebucky)

Like a dream I could reach but not quite hold (javid)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i do my best to! i adore each and every one of them <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

omg all my fics end happily, me in my attempt to give the characters what they deserve ;) i hope to work on some more soon and maybe will have the heart to end them a little more heart wrenchingly...

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

gosh. i mean, all of them. lol

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i'm not popular enough to have attracted hate yet (niice)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

haven't written any yet! but not ruling it out for the future. some people are such craftsmen with writing smut, they inspire me :D but man, the fics where you're feeling all kinds of emotions and they're barely even kissing? that stuff is like cocaine to me so i'm happy where i am right now :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i am so boring--not yet!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

man, not to my knowledge...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

not yet <3

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

not yet either! i've talked about it with a couple of friends, and it's definitely something i'd be interested in later on, but the stars haven't aligned as of now ;)

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

oh gosh noooo. i mean, i think it's pretty obvious which ships are my favorite, cause the fics don't get finished if i'm not motivated and unhinged about them (stevebucky and javid). that being said, shoutout to percabeth, who even though i haven't written fic for them, still live in my head rent free and can be activated for free any time of goddamn day

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

hmmm. there's a newsies one i've got--sort of my very first idea, and this is a trend with me--to get so many ideas and try to cram them into one story only to never come back and write several smaller stories--but it's a post strike jack and davey exploration, and i'd really like to finish it one day, because it has a lot of good ideas in it :D we'll see!

also i've got a stevebucky roadtrip literally based on a roadtrip i did once. would love to finish it someday. if i could just. finish. it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i think realistic dialogue and adding nuggets that bring characters to life? i've also been told a few times that i write kids well, and i'm flattered ;)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

setting and sensory 😖 (and sometimes plot but we won't talk about that) at least i'm good enough to recognize it most of the time? then i can go back in during edits and pace the paragraphs differently, add smells and description...onwards and upwards...

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

yes yes yes, especially where it really enhances character who come from different backgrounds/are multi-linguals. unfortunately i am not a multi-lingual 😭 (i'm working on that), so i rely on friends and google translate for it now...

19. First fandom you wrote for?

actual first fanfic i ever wrote was definitely about the weasley siblings. first on ao3 was stevebucky ;)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

that's so hard!!! they're all so different in my head. i'll go with Another Song Another Spring, simply because it's so fun and really was written for me, so when i go back to reread it, i have a blast :D

no pressure tags for any writers who see this, and also @turtle-steverogers @zenaidamacrouras1 @hipsterdiva @tessabennet @voylitscope @greyhavensking @t4tstevebucky and anyone else who writes and wants to share!

[tracybirds]

Where Parallel Lines Meet (6/?)

wee bit overdue but wow February sure was a month..... I managed to carve out time to add to this in lil chunks and I'm so glad I got to finish this chapter :D More of what I love, John and Alan being bros and chatting about life! I think given university has started for me and given I'm knee deep in work and various other projects that I'm shifting my loose schedule aim to a chapter a month, at least until things calm down <3 That'll give me time to work on other things too which strikes the happy balance I want :D

Huge thanks to @gumnut-logic who had the dubious honour of reading all the bits and pieces that I sent, entirely out of order because of who I am as a person, and being lovely and supportive and also everyone who commented and left likes and reblogged and things bc I'm not the best at replying bc time who but I love you all all the same (I'm writing this late at night, can you tell from the sap??)

Title is adapted from a line in Sarah Howes’ poem ‘Relativity’ (scroll to the bottom of the article)

A fight between John and Alan is followed by an interstellar storm with unexpected consequences.

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [Part 5] | [Part 6] | [Part 7]| [Part 8]

---

“Keep it steady,” said Alan, eyes darting across to John’s hands flying across the controls. “She needs more thrust, don’t hesitate.”

John’s jaw was set hard as stone as he eased the throttle forward, his gaze firm and never once leaving the navigational display.

Fast as he moved, there was an undeniable indecision in his motion, his usual dexterity made clumsy with uncertainty.

The experience would come soon enough, Alan knew that, but for now he quietly compensated for John’s mistakes as his fingers lingered on controls rather than leaping to the next task. 

Anything to keep them flying as long as possible, exhilaration keeping them aloft as much as the laws of virtual physics programmed into the simulator.

Wide, green eyes left the screen for a split second, a grin spreading across John’s face as he looked at Alan. The sky beneath their feet swooped upwards with the momentary lapse of concentration, vertigo rushing through Alan’s head as John hit the controls a moment too late, the plane careening to the side.

Alan had been in this situation before, knew how to shift his body weight backwards, how to plant his feet firmly on the floor and brace. Muscle memory took over, a laser focus in his eye as he moved, leaning over to slam the keys on John’s side when he didn’t react like he should have.

It wasn’t enough to be a team, not when they flew the Thunderbirds. A team was made up of individuals, who all banded together and worked towards a common goal. Alan had spent years having the fact drilled into him – if all he had was a team surrounding him when things went wrong, people would get hurt.

His brothers were more than a team. They were his co-pilots. Extensions of one machine, living and breathing not a common goal but the exact same one.

He could hear John yelling in his ear, yelling loud and long and tinged blue with fear and Alan didn’t give up, wouldn’t give up but he was down a co-pilot and the ocean blue beneath him rushed upwards until it filled his vision and his eyes snapped upwards to…

Black.

John’s shuddery gasps echoed around him while Alan sat back in the chair, stunned.

It had been a long time since he’d been in a simulator crash.

He groped with his right hand, feeling for the edge of John’s chair while his vision still swirled with the bright light of the computerised ocean.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah,” said John, sounding shaken. “Didn’t think I’d freeze like that.”

“Mental overload,” said Alan. “J-Scott told me the first time that it happens to everyone.”

“Guess that’s the point,” said John. “Figured we’d just get a ‘Game Over’ screen not…”

He trailed off and in the dim light, Alan could just see his hand waving vaguely at the screen.

“Was it meant to do that?” asked John.

Alan snorted.

“Were we meant to crash into the ocean, you mean? I don’t want to fly with you if you think that’s the final destination.”

“I’m not an idiot,” said John, in a lofty tone that Alan just knew was accompanied by his signature eye roll.

Really, they might be able to trademark it soon.

“I meant was it a winnable scenario, could I do it better?”

“Yes,” said Alan, standing and stretching. “You could. But not now, I want food before we go for another round.”

“Aw, do we have to?”

Alan poked him in the back, digging his fingers into the place that he knew would make John jump to his feet.

“Yes, we do, it’s like three in the afternoon. And I’ve still got assignments to do.”

“You always have assignments to do.”

“Yeah, well I got behind,” said Alan, mouth twisting uncomfortably downwards. “You better take a look at what Brains gave you too otherwise you’ll be barred from the sims.”

They left the room, wandering back towards the elevator that would take them upstairs.

“I just wanted one more go,” said John, glancing back over his shoulder at the pokey little room. “I could have done it.”

“Then consider this a debrief. You always need food at a proper debrief, that’s rule number one about debrief.”

“What’s rule number two?”

Alan grinned.

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

John pulled a face at him and they laughed and joked together all the way up to the kitchen.

They gathered the ingredients quickly, stacking them a mile high and laughing as Alan’s sandwich toppled sideways and John’s became more cheese than anything else.

“Let’s go up to the round house,” suggested Alan. “Good food, good views, and all that.”

A few short minutes later, they collapsed on the balcony, legs swinging freely over the side.

The sun shone bright in the sky, lazily sliding in and out from behind the clouds. Silver capped waves were rolling far below them over the deep blue of the ocean and the wind sang a gentle song in their ears as it rustled through the forest.

It was a fine afternoon, one of those days that made Alan glad he lived in this beautiful place.

Gradually the chatter between the brothers died away, each enraptured by the moment before them which demanded attention and directed them to silence.

Alan tried to think back to the last time he’d been here, captured in this moment on the balcony with a different John.

A small act, sharing lunch and laughs together, something they’d done a thousand times, yet Alan couldn’t recall when it had last happened.

He loved John, he really did, but he didn’t want him overwriting his precious memories. He wished the old John – no! His John, he fiercely reminded himself – had been home more, wished that the Chaos Crew hadn’t stolen those last few weeks away.

He swallowed past the hard lump in his throat.

For the hundredth time he apologised silently for that last argument, for being a source of stress when he should have been anything else.

Ironically, he thought he understood his older brother more than ever now that he wasn’t here.

From far away, they couldn’t hear the breaking of the waves, but Alan had grown up with its song in his ears, the gentle tossing of the waters one he could recall at will.

A seabird drifted on the wind, bobbing up and down on unseen currents as it glided over the ocean. As Alan watched, it banked and dove, making a beeline for its cliffside home.

Together, he and John sat in silence, soaking up the sun and the taste of salt in the air, an easy peace settling between them.

An electric hum began to gather in the air, compression waves carrying an engine roar over the ocean, and Alan knew that sound better than his own heartbeat.

“Is that Thunderbird One?” asked John, squinting a little as the sound enveloped them.

The first glimmer of red in the far-off distance confirmed it seconds later and Alan felt his spirits start to soar over the horizon with it.

Scott was home.

“It sure is,” he answered, but already John needed no reply as Thunderbird One approached at speed, shifting smoothly into vertical descent and hovering as the pool slowly retracted.

Alan knew Scott wouldn’t be looking for them, but he couldn’t help but wave all the same.

“Virgil and Gordon can’t be far behind,” he said. “And they weren’t out for long, I hope it went okay.”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

Alan’s excitement at seeing Thunderbird One, which always felt as though he were seeing Scott himself, faded away into a sombre sadness that always lived inside him.

“It doesn’t always,” was all he said.

John looked down, eyes following Thunderbird One as she descended into the depths of the island hangar far below them.

“Oh.”

Alan reached out and clasped his shoulder, compassion brimming in his eyes as he looked at him.

“Hey now, there’s no use making assumptions,” he said. “With any luck, it was easier than they expected and they’ll all get a bit of a break. Might even get to watch a whole movie with them.”

“As long as it’s not that stupid fighter pilot one,” said John with a scowl. “We’ve started it like five times already.”

Alan laughed.

“It’s Gordon’s turn, don’t worry.”

“That worries me more,” retorted John.

“Only downside is Scott will want to see my progress,” said Alan, groaning as he leant back and stared up at the sky. “It never feels like I’m any closer to being done. Least he can help me with the geometric reasoning thing, I keep mucking it up.”

John rolled his eyes.

“You could have said, I’d have helped you.”

Alan snorted.

“You,” he said jabbing a finger at John, “were busy sulking about being bored and how I did nothing but dumb assignments literally three days ago.”

“I was not.”

“Was too.”

“Well, maybe,” said John, pouting a little. “But it was true, I was bored. At least now I have the sims.”

“And assignments of your own? Brains gave you that packet, right?”

John coughed.

“I guess, technically, yeah,” he said squirming a little. “It might still be on my bedside table though.”

Alan groaned.

“Scott’s gonna kill me and it’s gonna be all your fault.”

“History’s just so boring,” whined John. “Who cares what some old guy did a hundred years ago?”

“You’re right, a hundred years ago they only landed on the Moon,” said Alan, sarcastically. “Hasn’t changed humanity forever at all. We only have Martian colonies now.”

John rolled his eyes.

“Okay, fine I take your point. But it’s not like it’s on the Moon landing, it’s all the Revolutionary War and stuff.”

He caught Alan’s eye and shrugged.

“I did at least read it,” he said.

“Whatever you say, squirt,” said Alan.

John scowled at the nickname that never ceased to delight Alan, but he made no argument. He shuffled closer, a hard light glinting in his eyes that told of a sudden resolve to ask something that had been plaguing him for a while now.

“Go on,” he said, waving his hand at John. “What’re you thinking?”

John looked at him, clear consideration in his eyes.

“I’ve just been wondering,” he said. “Why do you have so many assignments?”

Alan stared, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could see John more clearly.

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t have nearly as many,” said John. “Besides, your portrait’s got an iR uniform on, the others listen when you say something about a rescue, and you’re a whizz on those simulators. I can’t see why they’d stop you from going except you’re always doing school stuff instead. And I can’t figure out where it’s all come from.”

Alan didn’t know what to say.

Or he did, but he didn’t want to say it.

It had been one thing, slipping into John’s room all those weeks ago to talk things through with him, to apologise and make up. He’d done it a thousand times before but the last time had never happened and the torn edges of that relationship still ran jagged inside him.

He knew what John would have said, knew how John would have helped pick him back up again like all his brothers had before. But it hadn’t happened this time.

And it was an entirely different thing to admit his foolishness to this John who was so fierce and righteous, more likely to mock him than forgive him.

He screwed up his courage, coiling his stomach like a spring and steeling his nerve.

“Like I said, I got behind. I messed up,” he said. “Plain and simple. Scott and John pulled me from duty just before…”

He trailed off, staring out across the water, unsure if he’d said too much. John was still a touchy subject for, well, John and Alan stole a glance at his little brother.

Although not so little now, he was starting to grow as fast as Alan was.

But rather than looking upset at the mention of his counterpart, John appeared more indignant than anything else, a familiar fire in his eyes as he prepared to scorch the injustices of the world.

“You made one mistake? That’s it? And so they piled on the work so you’d never have fun again?”

“That’s not what...” began Alan, but John was off, ranting as though he’d been personally dealt the blow. In seconds he was on his feet, pacing back and forth on the balcony as he raved. He looked so much like John, furious at Fischler or shouting down some paper’s conclusion or drawn into some interest that he couldn’t help but move as he explained his thoughts.

He twisted around suddenly with a fierce scowl.

“And you just take it, Alan, I’ve never met anyone so… so…”

He struggled for a moment, then flopped back down next to him.

“You’re just so agreeable,” he said. “You seem to think they’re right and that’s the worst part of all.”

John lay down, his arms spread wide.

“Worked it out of your system now?” asked Alan with an amused smile.

“Probably not. You’re gonna say something stupid about how they are right, aren’t you.”

“Yup.”

“Fine,” said John. “I’m listening.”

Alan thought for a moment, wondering how to start.

“It’s been ramping up for a while. The Chaos Crew, I mean. You know who they are?”

John nodded.

“They were running circles around us before you arrived. I don’t know when they slept because it sure felt like we didn’t. At first it was easy, leaving an essay to go help on an emergency. I could do it when I got back, or the next morning. No big deal, and then I could ask Virgil to help me with it. Only I couldn’t. There wasn’t any time, not for any of us and then I realised that I didn’t have enough required homeschooling hours to complete the term and half a dozen assignments due so I hacked the system so it wouldn’t alert anyone. I mean what was the big deal, I could catch up over the term break easy.”

“I guess you didn’t do that.”

Alan shook his head.

“It all sort of snowballed from there. The school eventually cottoned on and their truancy officer contacted Scott.”

“Busted,” said John.

“Yep.”

Silence fell between them, and Alan’s thoughts drifted back to Scott, who would be running through the post-flight checks as they spoke. He almost wished Scott had been told earlier, wished for a moment’s notice that might have told his brothers that he hadn’t been doing okay.

“They should have seen how bad it had gotten,” said John. “They shouldn’t have had to be told.”

Alan looked over at him, carefully assessing his words.

“It wasn’t their fault,” he said with a shrug. “It ramped up so slowly, none of us saw it. And now that I’ve broken free of that, I see it even more.”

He sighed, lost in thought, wondering if they’d ever see the end to the chaos being scattered across the globe.

“It’s not always like this,” he said at last. “The others aren’t usually gone so much, Brains isn’t always busy and Grandma usually never leaves unless it’s time to go shopping.”

He grinned.

“Grandma loves shopping, she’s probably going to bring home a mountain when they figure out what happened to you.”

“What’s it normally like then?” asked John.

“I don’t know,” said Alan. “Less lonely, I guess. If you weren’t here, I’d be by myself.”

He shot John a small smile.

“I’m glad I’m not. By myself, I mean.”

He frowned, trying to think of how best to answer John’s question.

“I guess normally it’s more balanced. I still have school, but I help out on rescues too. Scott isn’t as stressed, Virgil and Gordon are usually hanging around, making food and swimming in the pool and stuff. Kayo’s here too and we’d play games together and help Brains trial stuff.”

“And I’m up in space,” said John, a wistful tone in his voice.

“Yeah, you are,” said Alan, but then he nudged him and laughed. “Wouldn’t always feel like it though, you pop up and chat all the time. Sometimes you’d let me come up for ‘zero gravity training’ but we’d just play games and look at the stars and talk. I miss that. Even if he was here and you weren’t, I’d still miss that. He didn’t have a lot of time for me in the end.”

“Wow, so I was a jerk, huh?”

Alan gave John an odd look.

“That’s not what I meant. He didn’t have much time at all. Like I said, it’s not normally like this, the Chaos Crew are running all the others ragged. They’re exhausted and I can’t help them until I catch up, that’s the deal.”

“It’s a shit deal.”

Alan shrugged.

“The whole situation’s shit. Doesn’t make it any better to waste time complaining about it. Bottom line is when I get them done, I can help again.”

“And then I guess you’ll leave me too.”

The words were muttered, not meant for anyone else’s ears, but Alan knew that feeling, knew that fear of being left behind more than any of the rest of them, and so they rang in his ears loud and clear.

“I’ll still have school,” he said, hesitantly, knowing how the reassurance would fall flat and inadequate. “And with me back out on rescues, the others will be home more, they’ll have time to rest.”

They sat in silence.

“Well then,” said Alan. “I guess, the other option is that you kill it on those sims so you can come out too.”

“You think they’d let me? Doesn’t seem like Scott’s going to be keen any time soon.”

Alan snorted.

“Scott let me fly a rocket when I was fourteen. He’ll let you do anything if you prove yourself.”

He tapped his wrist, pulling up the time and thinking it over.

“Scott’s probably out of the shower and things by now if we want to ambush him. Or if he’s wanting a nap, we could get some more practice sessions in for you. I can do the geometry thing after dinner.

John leapt to his feet.

“Well, hurry up then! What are we waiting for?”

Alan laughed and hauled himself upright.

He couldn’t help but love the easy excitement John brought to the sims, which were in all truth fairly boring. Alan had done them over and over, knew them inside out and could fly most of them with his eyes closed.

The sims were fun, the next best to flying for real and Alan missed flying so much it ached in his chest.

But there was a fresh vibrancy to them now with a younger brother to teach and as he raced after John, carrying the plates he’d left on the balcony in his excitement, he couldn’t help but feel his spirits lift and his heart leapt with a thrilling jolt of excitement.

Alan smiled broadly.

He was really starting to like having a little brother.

[Part 7]

[ac-liveblogs]

Lostbelt 7: Part 1

You know, I was pretty set to get thrown curveballs in this Lostbelt. The one I got thrown hit harder than I expected.

At this stage, while I can acknowledge that it’s not like we knew much about the Alien God to begin with, it is strange to see her portrayed as “not a threat to humanity”, amnesia subplot and all. On one hand I shouldn’t be too surprised given she is U-Olga Marie, on the other I’m a bit... disappointed that she’s suddenly switched gears into a comic relief character. She is charming and I am enjoying her given the lighter tone that most of Part 1 sets (presumably before the pain sets in once part 2 rolls around), but it’s an adjustment and I’m sort of waiting to see how well Nasu can sell me on this.

Aliens, man.

The comedy in this part is genuinely pretty good, even if the tone shift after LB6 does feel a bit jarring. Presumably we’re going the Babylonia route of “oh, you like these NPCs? Wouldn’t it be terrible if... something happened to them?”, so. Looking forward to that emotional turmoil. But... I do feel the comedy kind of drags on a beat too long. It’s not as tightly timed as LB6 was. The Xoqqer kinda. Took too long.

But, once things get serious the plot kicks into overdrive and I am really excited and interested for what happens next, so. While part 1 could’ve trimmed the fat a bit, I’m still optimistic about what comes next.

Dinosaurs, man.

Rasputin and Koyanskaya’s slapstick duo were a particular delight at the end of part 1. I just enjoyed them bickering. We have the single most cursed party in existence this LB. I’m kinda digging it.

Kadoc continues to worm his way into my heart by being a wet, pathetic sadsack. I think I’ll be upset when he dies. Genuinely, it is an absolute crime Young Moriarty didn’t join the team, because the idiot square of Ritsuka-Mash-Kadoc-Moriarty was too good to lose. In general, I enjoy the extra dimension he adds to the party - a lot more than I enjoy, say, Habetrot; while I do like her, she’s just kinda there sometimes. She can dip from a scene without much disruption.

and ohhhhhhhh i have other thoughts about habetrot she is on the galahad theory board

Nemo has won me over in every possible dimension. He’s my new favourite Rider. Sorry, Ozy. He’s been trending upwards since Imaginary Scramble and now he’s at the top. Shame he’s such a shit unit. Why wasn’t the Tlaloc fight waterside. Fuck you, Nasu. Buff my boy.

I haven’t seen enough of Kukulkan to comment on her (besides not liking her design), but I am really enjoying Tezcatlipoca’s characterisation up til now. Even if I don’t like his design. But you know who else I’m really enjoyi-

Daybit. It’s Daybit. Tell me your secrets, Daybit, I am so curious about you. What’s destroying the world between friends, I’ve killed 6 and change. He’s so fun. He’s such a ~mysterious and ~scary character, ooh, even when he’s bitching about Tez spending all his money.

Why are you going into space. Why are you doing a pilgrimage. Why did you help with MY pilgrimage. ORT? WHAT? WHY???

Nasu really went “yeah this is a powerful man of mystery, DW about it” for four years, got me all on guard, and still managed to surprise me

Anyway, you know how the entire human race was exterminated by a sentient tree or something before the bleaching? And also how Daybit is an “enemy of humanity” and also his Servant has time shenanigan powers.

Is it just me, or do ORT’s attacks kinda look like. Tree branch vine things.

What’s that about, huh.

(ft. - not my gameplay!)

And then there’s - the bad. And oh boy, it’s bad.

The thing I’m most annoyed about at this stage is... why we can talk to dinosaurs, but communicating with the Ocelomeh is impossible. After we whitewashed most of the LB7 cast, Izcalli and Camazotz excepted, not even being able to talk to the POC is. Um.

A horrific look. Nasu, what.

While Aztec culture was certainly Like That - there’s no point in me complaining about the depiction of the mythos when human sacrifice was such a huge component of it and if you’re talking about the gods it’s gonna come up - choosing to have them primarily communicate via audible grunts and symbols is. What the fuck are you doing, Nasu? I expected you to whitewash the gods, I didn’t think it’d be this bad!

I am going to charitably assume that there’s a point to this that will crop up in part 2, because if not.

The racial aesthetics of this LB are a nightmare. 3 Aztec gods are white as snow - and they don’t even have Quetzalcoatl’s lore to hide behind this time. 

But god, man, the dinosaurs are the sympathetic ones, huh.

Okay.

Camazotz’ artist is the only bitch here I respect.

[thewul]

Enters India Venture Fund, possibly through a recap of Morgan Stanley's IIF, India Investment Fund, the novelty is the scale of that recap, upwards to 26TN USD in 4 equal installments over 20 years, in diversified investments for India to double and then triple its actual GDP,

so that it too becomes a powerhouse of globalization, in so doing we enable the future while addressing the systemic poverty of the past,

that will continue no matter what measures are taken because in real life a straw or even several will never break a camel's back, not now or ever,

what is needed, what is of the essence, is a comprehensive investment plan geared toward growing India's GDP

Also this latest round of talks with India's government has proven to be successful, with both parties agreeing to the terms of this funding that allows IIF to pursue its goals of growing global GDP, yes IVF is conducted through IIF which we have covered before, so it is the first regional diversification of what was intended to be a more general fund

Why Lahore, well it's not just about money, India and Pakistan are not only neighbors, historically they have been one and the same, denying a fact doesn't make it any less relevant it makes us less relevant, and so what concerns Pakistan concerns India, and what concerns India concerns Pakistan, that stands to benefit from a consequent share of the funding, both are, in the shape of cross investments

It is inspiring really, by no means a self congratulating statement, this is the work of extensive teams from all concerned parties, bankers ought to be selfless or they're just being plain rude, it is inspiring to modernize everything in India, starting with agriculture, and lift up hundreds of millions from absolute poverty, crucially address the question of housing as well, and the more I looked at it the more I realized that same as Africa, India was the missing piece in the globalized economy puzzle

I remember having this conversation with a friend, a longtime friend I haven't seen for ages now, not a banker rather a fixer, fixing problems that looked otherwise unsolvable, and I asked him over a drink how do you make problems go away, and his answer was I just throw money at them

Being a banker I thought well basically it's what I do isn't it, then I asked him what if they still don't go away, and he said it means you need to throw some more money at them, and he proved to be right all this time

Money doesn't have any value in itself if it doesn't solve problems, that stands true for the global monetary mass, whereas we think in terms of wealth creation, problem solving is the real utility of money, wealth creation is not even a distant second, but people don't see it or when they do they have wasted many opportunities in between

Thank your for your time

Cordially, etc, etc,

De Firmador

ps. Not a single African country on that list, whereas the vast majority of mineral resources come from Africa, but we should accept that as business as usual

The globalized economy will only level when people realize that it's not what you say or want or the amount of intellectual property that you own, but also essentially what resources your ground holds

I hope that African countries wake up to that fact, that they are building a globalized economy and not rightly benefiting from it, this has to change and it can only change when African nations are able to set for themselves the prices of the commodities they produce vs having those prices set by non producing countries

I am and remain open to discussing the feasibility of an African commodities market, and already proposed Casablanca, Lagos and either Pretoria, Johannesburg or Durban, as the places where this vast distributed African commodities market operates, around the clock and 24/7

[northwest-cryptid]

Here's the thing that no one seems to understand...

Living with chronic illness/pain, as a poor person; with medical problems like asthma. I am in permanent stealth mode not even intentionally, but because I live with it. You don't know unless I tell you.

I meet people every day who assume I'm just some able-bodied wealthy person who lives a comfortable life. Why? How?

Well you follow me on the website where I vent a lot so you don't often get to see me as I am, but as someone who lives with a ton of life crippling problems and who knows a ton of people who also do. Let me tell you right now that I don't go through my day to day life suffering. We don't like, limp around going "ooooh ow the pain and suffering; ugh I'm miserable 24/7; oh man it SUUUUCKS"

No, you'll find me in VRChat with my friends just fine, sure I'm absolutely dealing with muscle soreness, general neck pains which give me headaches; I'm likely very hungry and my stomach is in a ton of pain from a poor diet of "whatever we can afford" but I'm not going to like... express that all? We're in the middle of hanging out and we're having a great time, why the fuck would I just be like "oh man the thing I experience every day is STILL happening!"

I literally only do that to ask for aid, or to vent my frustration with the world in general on a very specific website (it's tumblr) but in my day to day life? Nah. I once got an ask that was like "buddy do you do ANYTHING other than complain?!" Which, like dude you're following me on the website where I word vomit; but the truth is...

This week I built a few desks to revamp my living space since I've not really unpacked or moved in despite living here for like 4 years. I cleaned my entire living space, I played a ton of Morrowind with my partner (we are playing through as Benny Biggershoes, descendant of Benny Bigshoes; we're an argonian mage it is very silly,) I also jumped into yet another unity project to do a bit of editing on my VRChat avi/world, got a bit of work done in Blender as well; played a ton of Once Human which I'm trying to figure out how the hell to stream since the game lags like crazy but has been a fun ride over the last few weeks. I'm also getting into MWO with some friends, I found some new bands/artists I'm really enjoying the sound of, my favorite DJ released a new track that was actually really solid and I was absolutely loving that. I've been successfully growing more plants in our garden, I even got a small greenhouse in my office now as well as an air purifier which is helping with my asth- oh fuck I can't mention that, if I mention negativity you'll suddenly forget all the other shit I talked about... uh, I practiced more art and made a new OC that's been fun to figure out how to draw since they're really stylized. I also worked a bit on my website which was fun; I'm enjoying figuring out how to make HTML do a bunch of silly stuff that I want my website to have. We've been cooking a lot more and that's been really fun; let's see what else oh right I also invented a new speedrun which I'm trying to get approved on Speedrun.com so that's cool.

Like, my point here is that yea I'm dealing with chronic pain, asthma, various horrible side effects of being poor (literally need to go to a doctor desperately to get meds but it's expensive and I don't have insurance yet, I've been sick with the same infection for upwards of like 4 months now.) It's all become normal, that doesn't mean it's okay, or that I need to be silent about it; not on my personal blog; not in my personal space. Yes I have a life outside of that all, but yes it is a constant in my life. I'd like to minimize that as much as possible.

It's upsetting to people because I don't LOOK disabled, I don't LOOK like I'm suffering, I don't LOOK like I need money. I don't LOOK like you think people in my position SHOULD.

So the people who would revel in my suffering can't, because I'm not; but those who seek to help me out of my suffering also see that I'm not constantly this pathetic wriggling mess and go "well guess they don't need my help, they seem fine!" Which is the worst because this results in me getting no help and also getting a lot of angry random anon hate about how I'm... uh, not allowed to vent about living with chronic pain, being poor, being disabled; living in a place where I can't afford to get on disability or benefits; and generally live in a shitty situation despite making the most of my life.

People don't like it when I'm happy because they think I'm supposed to be miserable, people don't like it when I'm miserable because that's not entertaining and they think of me as some kind of content creator to consume rather than a human being. Then when I play up a character people say I'm cringe, so like; man you really can't win with people ya know?

Fortunately, I'm winning with myself as best I can, it doesn't mean I wouldn't mind a hand up every now and then; it doesn't mean I don't need help, it doesn't mean I'm not still suffering from chronic illness, asthma (which I literally can't even get an inhaler for because I can't afford it), and a nearly 5 month long (as of now) sinus infection compounding with long covid.

Sure I have very real problems, and I gotta vent that sometimes; but I'm also not going to be some miserable sad sack 24/7. You find me in VRChat and you'd never know I have chronic pain that limits my mobility. You find me in an online game or out at the store or you ask me about unity on a forum and you'll never know I'm struggling to do everything that I do. Because it's normal to me, you don't mention how many times you drink water a day to stay hydrated, I don't mention how many times I need to sit down and rest or take anti-inflammatory meds; or pain killers. It's normal, but that doesn't mean I like it.

[sugarwithtea]

7:18 pm || myg

pairing : husband!yoongi x reader

genre : fluff, established relationship

rating : pg-13, sfw

summary : you love your husband's long hair a little too much

word count : 1k

warnings : kissing, tickling and them being adorable :(

author's note : i love love love his hair!!! we all are in such a mess after his new ig post istg! i had to write this fluffy lil thing :(( i wrote this when it was 7:18 pm and the time in the fic is same!! idk how timestamp fics work? but pls it was quick as fuck! so spare me cuz it's straight up fluff with no sense by me!!

mood : still with you

m.list | taglist form

"Where are you?"

"Y/N?"

You could hear Yoongi call for you from the front door but you were too lazy to give him a reply, snuggled up in your bed with eyes drooping low.

It was a work day but due to your fatigue, your husband had forced you into taking it off and resting. Given, you did nothing the whole day, just got up to eat and excrete.

A few seconds pass by and just before you slip into dreamland, your bedroom door creaks open and soft light filters in while you can make out the silhouette of Yoongi.

The smell of his cologne hits you before you can even see his face clearly in the dim light. You inhale a wave of old spice and citrus and sigh softly. The comfort it brought you was more than your bed was able to give you throughout the day. It was loving, it was familiar, it was home.

"I am home." his croaky, tired voice rings in your ears as you hear him padding towards the bed.

"I know." you mumble with a smile and feel the mattress sink beside you.

It was raining and you could smell the faint traces of earth and water wafting from him and the window left open by you.

You peek open an eye and look at the digital clock on your desk displaying the time, 7:18 pm, the yellow light from the clock being the only source in your room now that your husband has closed the door.

He lifts up the covers and lies down beside you, shifting his tired body towards your form.

"Hey." you greet him, without any reason.

"You slept all day. Lucky." he whines and throws a hand around your waist, pulling you to his chest.

You laugh and make cooing sounds at him, rubbing his spine and snuggling further into his chest. You close your eyes again and revel in his warmth, the warmth from the bed seeming cold in front of him.

You inhale swiftly and that's when you feel the scent of his citrus shampoo get stronger, awakening your senses. Your hand moves on its accord and before you know it, it is resting at the nape of his neck, toying with the strands of his soft hair that you love more than anything else.

"Y/N."

"What? You know I love your hair." you pout at him and he quickly pecks your lips.

A wave of adoration and butterflies washes through you even when he has done it millions of times, even when you have known him for thirteen years, even when you have been with him for six years now, even when it's been three years since you married him.

You instinctively tug at his hair as he lets out a low, satisfied moan at your lips, before you start drawing lazy patterns at the skin of his nape.

"I love you."

"And I love your hair." you quip back with a smug grin as your hand travels further upwards to his scalp, parting his lush locks with your fingers to massage at his tired skin.

"Not me?"

"Mhmm, I'll think about it."

"Brat." and before you know it, his fingers sneak under your shirt and he tickles your waist.

"Oh my god Yoongi, no." you laugh and try to turn on your back but he relents you from doing so swinging his leg over yours and locking your body in place. His tickles travel across your torso and you hit at his hand continuously to stop him.

"Please nooo." you laugh with tears now lining your eyes and wiggle and squirm under his hold.

"Say you love me first." he laughs and your heart skips a beat at his gleeful voice and his gummy smile now on full display, with his hair a beautiful fluffy mess, thanks to you.

"I love youuu, now stop."

He kisses your scrunched up nose and lets you relax, laying back beside you and pulling you flush to his chest. You once again take the opportunity to play with his hair, this time attacking the strands which had stood out during the tickling session.

He purrs with his eyes closed when you softly press at his scalp and entangle your other hand through his hair.

You loved his hair a little too much, an infatuation that led you to hiding any stray scissors around your house. You know he won't ever cut his hair that way, but your heart was scared of the unknown. You had stopped him from going to the salon twice and were already dreading the day he would think of finally trimming his locks.

"Aah don't stop." he groans and your heart flies out to him again.

"Had a rough day?"

"More like tiring."

His closed eyes make you inch towards him and you bop his nose with yours. It's always the same. Being the executive producer of a label company was exciting but tiring and you knew it all too well given he had been at that position for almost the same time as your married life.

You kiss him once, he smiles a little. You kiss him twice, he smiles a little more. You kiss him thrice, his gums peek out. You kiss him for the fourth time and he is laughing heartily. You pat down at his hair and tuck the stray strands of hair away from his face.

"Wanna talk about it?"

He moves in your hold and nudges your forehead with his.

"First, I wanna eat something."

"I am right here and you're whining to eat something else." you pout at him and jut your lips out to kiss him again.

He moves away this time and starts to sit up with his eyes squinted and mouth twisted into a smug pout.

"I want real food, wifey." he mimics your high pitch pout and you lash out at him with your hands tugging him down with his hair, pulling the strands gently but strongly so he tilts his head towards you with a laugh and a little 'ow'. You laugh out loud and sit up, grazing your teeth over his adorably cute nose.

"That was rude of you, hubby."

taglist : @nuniah @jeonkookiesworld @kittykooyoongi @jjkeverlast @highly-functioning-mitochondria @gimmethatagustd @haliiimede @btsstan12 @aliimac @namjoonswhoresworld @apotatomashedbybts

feedback, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated so please let me know your thoughts :)))

© sugarwithtea. all works belong to me. do not repost without permission.

[aerynwrites]

Mysterious Man || Pt.7

Mob Boss!Boba Fett x Female!Reader

A/N: ignore the armor in the above gif xD i was running out if Boba gifs to use lol. Anyways, here it is, part 7! only two more parts to go after this. I hope you all enjoy! Thank you to @princessbatears​ for beta’ing this chapter!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: canon typical violence, angst, hurt/no comfort (yet).

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You shouldn’t feel this way.

You shouldn’t feel this overbearing sense of guilt. Shouldn’t feel like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. But with the way Boba is glaring down at you, the love from earlier this morning is completely absent from his eyes…you think you feel more dread than guilt.

“What is this?” he finally asks, shaking the card in the air.

You take a deep breath, trying and failing to steady your nerves. You haven’t done anything wrong. You just need to tell him the truth. “That detective came into the diner a few months ago,” you start, trying to avoid Boba’s withering gaze, “He started asking questions about you, what you do, and all this and I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about because you own the hotel which everyone already knows-” you’re rambling by now. Still telling the truth but you can’t understand why Boba is still looking at you like that. “Then I told him that he should leave because I wasn’t going to tell him anything else because it’s all pretty straightforward. But he gave me his card anyway.”

“And you kept it?” Boba stands from his position leaned up against the couch, brows drawn together in frustration.

You feel yourself getting annoyed now, you told him everything. Why is he still pushing?

You throw your hands out to the side, “I tossed the card in my purse on the way out the door, Boba! Shit gets lost in there all the time-”

“Why didn’t you throw it away? That’s a lot easier than tucking it away in your purse for later use,” Boba accuses, and you finally begin to understand.

You scoff, “You think I contacted him?” your voice pitches upwards, unable to believe what he’s insinuating.

The man before you shakes his head, eyes drawn down the card still between his fingers. “Why else would you keep it?” he asks before continuing on without letting you answer. “This man, this… Detective Han Solo, has been trying to pin shit on me for years. He hates the fact that I have money and power and has tried to take me down several times.”

The venom in Boba’s voice as he speaks about the detective throws you off. The hatred drips from every word and paints itself clear as day on his features. And the thing that worries you most, is that you can see it in his eyes when he looks back up at you.

The words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue, come spilling out before you can think better of them. “Why the hell does it matter if he’s asking questions if there’s nothing to hide?” you ask, leaning into him further, anger bubbling up in your chest because of this stupid argument.

“I didn’t tell him anything when he came because there was nothing to tell him, Boba!” you push on, “And the fact that you’re so fucking angry over a damn card when I have already told you I haven’t contacted him -”

“How do I know that’s true?” he shouts, voice echoing around in the large room and shocking you into silence. “I don’t have anything to hide,” he insists, “But how am I to know that you haven’t been going back to him and telling him things that appear innocent to you but could be twisted into something different by him and the entire Republic City Police department?”

You feel your entire being deflate. Your chest aches and you can feel the tingling of tears building up behind your eyes. “So you don’t trust me, is what you’re saying?” the words come out weak, voice unsteady as you look up at the man before you, the man who looks nothing like the one you woke up next to this morning.

It seems he finally hears your words. His shoulder sag just slightly, the malice slips away from his gaze, but he still doesn’t look at you. Instead they look down at the card once more before he lets out a deep sigh.

“I think it’s best if you go,” he says quietly, turning away from you to face the window overlooking the city.

That was the final blow.

Your heartache is joined by anger and desperation. The latter two just barely manage to cover up the feeling of your heart dropping into your stomach and the tears that threaten to spill over.

“Fine,” you gasp, “I’ll go. But don’t even think about calling me until you get your head out of your ass,” you bite, anger boiling over. “I am a lot of things but I’m not a rat. Even if there was anything to tell I wouldn’t have.” you don’t even know if he’s listening anymore, his back has been turned to you since he told you to leave. So, you do the same.

The elevator doors open as soon as you press the button and you slip inside, not giving into the urge to look back at him. And when the doors close behind you, you can’t stop the tears that stream down your cheeks.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It’s been days since the argument. Five days to be exact, and each one feels longer than the last. You cried yourself to sleep the night he told you to leave, despite your anger at the situation, at him being a total asshole…your heartache wins out. It seems like no matter where you go or what you do, something reminds you of him. Whether it’s working your shifts at the diner and seeing his booth empty, running into Fennec which seems to be happening more often than not, to the necklace that hangs around your neck, a gift he got you for valentines day.

You can’t escape him. And you quietly hope he can't escape you either.

The diner is slower than usual today, something that you are silently grateful for since putting on a cheery persona for the customers hasn’t been easy. The only booth that is occupied is by a familiar raven haired woman that has been like your own personal phantom for the past few days. You ran into her at the corner market the day after The argument and she’s been showing up at the diner more. You want to assume it’s a coincidence but you have a feeling she’s keeping an eye on you. For what reason you’re not sure. You choose to hope that maybe Boba regrets what he said to you but is too stubborn to do anything about it, so he sends his right hand woman to keep an eye on you instead.

You approach the booth slowly, a tight smile on your lips as she looks in your direction.

“Hey Fennec,” you greet her again, gesturing to her coffee cup, “You need a refill?”

The woman looks at you for a moment, and if you didn’t know her well, you would have thought her eyes softened as she took in your appearance. Run down, dark circles beneath your eyes, orbs probably bloodshot from crying. You’ve definitely seen better days.

The woman shakes her head, “No, I’m good,” he says, “Could I get water instead? Maybe with a slice of the pie for today?”

You can’t help the pang in your chest as you hear her request. The pie of the day is cherry, yet another thing to remind you of Boba. you bite your lip and nod, “Yeah, sure thing.” you turn to go fulfill her order, but stop halfway and look back at her, toying with the front of your apron as you ask the question that has been burning at the beach of your mind.

“Fennec?” the woman looks at you again, brows raised. “How’s Boba doing?”

She pauses at your question, like she wasn’t quite expecting to hear it, or like she’s trying to figure out what to say. It doesn’t take her long to overcome her hesitancy and she lets out a soft sigh. “He’s…managing,” she offers, as if measuring her words carefully. “He’s been a little distant lately. But he’ll be fine. He always is.”

You nod, somehow the knowledge that he seems to be doing even slightly better than you, hurts all the more. You turn away again, “I’ll go get your order.”

You don’t even know what you were expecting her to say. You don’t know the answer to a lot of things lately. The main one being if Boba basically kicking you out the other night was him breaking up with you. Is he done? Is this just a break? Is he waiting for you to contact him?

You have no idea, which just makes your chest ache worse. You never thought you could hurt this much over someone. Never thought that the man you’ve come to love would do this. Your eyes widen slightly as you cut into the pie, your brain finally catching up with your own thoughts.

Love.

You love him. Of course you do. You can’t pinpoint exactly when or where the feeling started but you know you do. And that’s why it hurt so much. That’s why you wanted to kick and scream and call him an idiot the night he told you to leave. Or maybe it’s because you don’t even know if he loves you back. Would someone who loves you turn you away like that?

The tinkling of the bell above the front door interrupts you before you can think of an answer and you turn to see who walked in. as soon as you see the chestnut hair and the navy blue suit, anger bubbles up in your chest.

Detective Han Solo doesn’t even wait to be greeted, he just suanters over and takes a seat at the diner counter, looking at you expectantly. “Trouble in paradise?” he finally asks, sending you a knowing look.

“You asshole,” you seethe, making it to where he sits in three quick steps, “Why are you even here? You apparently already watch Boba’s every move, so why show up here? To rub it in my face?”

You are so blinded by rage that you completely forget about the woman sitting in the corner booth, intently listening to your conversation.

The detective shakes his head, and sends you a wry smile, “I came to see if you wanted to finally take me up on my offer.”

Your hands are balled into fists at your sides before you bring one up to point an accusing finger in the man's face. “Oh, fuck you,” you seeth, “I’m not taking you up on shit, because I can’t give you anything! And even if I could, I wouldn’t tell you.” your voice is dripping with malice as the detective’s face shifts from one of smug arrogance to slight shock. “Ever since you showed up it feels like life has knocked me on my ass, and I’m over it. Leave. I’m not serving you, and if you so much as come near me again I will file a harassment claim.”

The detective stares at you for a moment, saying nothing before he finally stands from his seat. He raps his knuckles on the counter twice before fixing you with a pitying look. “Have you ever considered that maybe I’m not the reason for your problems?”

“You are literally the exact reason for my problems right now,” your voice is disturbingly calm, “Now, please just, get. Out.”

The detective says no more. Just gives you a curt nod and turns on his heel to exit the diner, the bell jingling softly after him. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as soon as the door closed. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths before standing up straight and glancing back over to where Fennec was sitting. You see her talking quietly on the phone, before her eyes meet yours and she mutters something else into the receiver before hanging up. She stands from her seat and waves her phone in the air.

“Business calls,” she says simply, “Don’t worry about the pie.”

You don’t say anything as she too exits the diner, and once again you’re left alone with a multitude of emotions swimming in your chest.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Jess comes in for her shift about halfway through your own. You didn’t realize until you saw her in the back that you haven’t talked to her in a while, not since before the argument with Boba.

She comes hustling in as usual, never quite late but pushing it all the same. However, when she sees you sitting in the back for your break she can tell something is wrong. She immediately walks over to you wrapping her arms around you in a tight embrace and it takes everything in you not to burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” She finally asks, only pulling away from the hug when you loosen your grip.

You shake your head, knowing talking about it will make you cry. You shrug his shoulders. “I can call you later and tell you about it. My break is almost over and I don’t want to get into it here.”

Your friend gives you a sympathetic smile and nods, “Sure. Since I close up, can I meet up with you after work? Milkshakes on me from Freddie’s?”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, that sounds great actually.”

Jess smiles back, “Then it’s a date! Now let’s get to work and hopefully the day won’t drag by.”

You follow Jess out to the front of the house and continue your shift. As if Jess spoke it into existence, your shift does go by fairly quickly. The diner stays steadily busy so the time passes faster than usual. The end of your shift approaches sooner than you realize and you decide to take one more table before you call it a day. A group of four men had taken a seat at a booth in the far back corner in your section so you walked over, pulling out your notepad and pen.

“Welcome to Joe’s Diner, what can I get for you boys today?” You ask, spewing the regular greeting.

All four of them look at you, and instead do the usual friendly-ish greetings you usually receive, they look at you like a piece of meat. More than that even, it looks like they’re appraising you. You shift your weight anxiously, their lack of reply and predatory gazes putting you off.

“We have a best sellers section on the front of the menu-“

The largest man, the one sitting on the right edge seat speaks up, mouth twisted in a frown. “We know how the menu works sweet cheeks,” he practically sneers.

You have to bite your cheek to stop from snapping back at him and instead take a deep breath. “Okay, well…can I get you started with some drinks while you look over the menu?”

There’s another silence as your question hangs in the air, and the man that snapped at you shifts in his seat. He reaches up scratching at his unkempt beard and it’s then that you see it.

An eerily familiar tattoo that brings back memories of that night all those months ago. The man who attacked you has the same one. And so do all the men at the table.

Your eyes go wide, and you take an unconscious step backwards. Something the man notices. He sends you a lopsided smirk.

“Something wrong, sweet cheeks?” He asks, voice anything but friendly.

You shake your head, and move to turn away from the table, ready to tell Joe what’s going on. But as soon as you turn to leave, a large callused hand latches onto your wrist, stopping your escape. You turn back around, wincing as his grip continues to tighten.

“Let go of me,” you say firmly, fear rising in your chest at the looks on their faces.

The man holding onto you shakes his head, and then gives you a knowing look. “You’re Fett’s girl, aren’t you?”

Those words alone strike more panic within you and you manage to wrench your hand free from his grasp, turning and all but sprinting back towards the kitchen. You ignore the stares of the other patrons, nearly running into Jess as she carries a tray full of food from the kitchen.

“Woah!” She exclaims, barely managing to save the food from toppling to the floor, “What's going on? Why are you in such a rush?”

You shake your head, mind running a mile a minute and the only thing you’re able to clearly decipher is the need to get to Boba. To call him, text him, anything.

“I have to go,” you rush out, “I’m sorry, I need to leave.”

You ignore Jess’s questioning calls as you go to the back and grab your purse, rushing out the back before anyone can stop you.

Once out on the street you immediately start walking, borderline jogging towards the hotel, digging around in your purse for your phone. You hit Boba’s number and bring the phone up to your ear, listening to the endless ringing until it sends you to voicemail.

“Fuck,” you curse to yourself, ending the call before trying again.

Your heart is racing, your hands feel numb from the shock running through your veins. You thought you had gotten over that night. Gotten over your attack. But those men, their tattoos, the way he grabbed you…it brought it all back. And all you wanted was for Boba to tell you that everything’s okay. All of your anger over the argument dissipates in this moment. Fuck the argument. All you want right now is him.

He saved you once. If you can just get to him…

The phone goes to voicemail again, and you want to scream. You go to call again, but the moment you move to press the button the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You slow your pace and give a quick glance over your shoulder. Your heart drops into your stomach at the sight of a black SUV slowing to a crawl behind you.

Maybe it’s irrational. But you know something is wrong. Those men showing up at the diner. The car that just so happens to be slowing down beside you on what you now realize is a pretty desolate street.

You take off running before you can think further. You can see the lights of the hotel's entrance down the street. Its distance makes your heart sink just that much more. It’s so far…but you can see it. The sound of tires squealing behind you makes your legs pump harder. You drop your purse to the ground, the extra weight just slowing you down.

The hotel is closer now, still out of reach but you can see the bellhop. The one that would always greet you when you came home.

Home…

Tears spill from your eyes as you suck air into your lungs. The sound of a roaring engine is closer and you feel the wind against your cheek as the car whips past and onto the sidewalk in front of you. Blocking your view of the hotel and your only escape, your hopes of safety ripped from your grasp. The doors of the suv swing open and two burly men jump out. But you’re already taking off in the opposite direction.

It doesn’t matter.

A hand reaches out and snags the neck of your uniform, choking you and bringing you to a screeching halt all at once. You splutter, gasping for breath as a thick arm wraps around your waist. You thrash around in his grip, kicking your legs out and reaching behind you to claw at whatever you can reach.

“Help! Someone help-“

You hear a muttered curse as your foot strikes the second man in the stomach, and your shout is cut off by a cloth being pressed firmly to your mouth and nose.

You shake your head side to side violently, but a wave of dizziness and haze slows your movements. It feels like the fight is sucked right out of you as your vision starts to go dark at the edges and you are forced to fall limp in the man’s arms.

A dark chuckle meets your ears, warm breath fanning over your cheek as they maneuver you into the back seat of the car.

“See you on the other side, sweet cheeks.”

And then, just after you see the brightly lit sign of the Empire Hotel fly by the window, your world goes dark.

�� · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Prompt idea: Geralt gets a contract for a monster that has been sighted nearby. When he tracks it down, he is surprised to find mothman!Jaskier who (much like actual mothman) has an ass that won’t quit.

?

I just want you to know that Mothskier now lives in my head rent free 24/7. I love him. I would die for him. This is my new favorite emotional support au.

2k-ish words - please feel free to shove comments through the bars of my enclosure, I would really like that

art by the ever-wonderful @mawbwehownets, whose drawing of Mothskier made me legit cry.

tw: mild injury, brief blood mention, strangers to lovers

---

“So what you’re saying,” Geralt raises an eyebrow slowly, curious, “Is that you need me to catch a monster that’s half man and half moth?”

“Yup.”

“Alright,” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. The frustrated Witcher takes a slow breath to calm and center himself, before he ends up botching the entire contract-writing process. Humans tend to grow attached to the strangest monsters sometimes, and apparently this mysterious local being was no different. “Let me get this totally straight, so there are no mistakes or misunderstandings. You want me to capture this man-moth and get it out of your woods, but you don’t want me to kill it?”

“He’s called the Mothman, and he’s pretty damn stubborn about sticking around,” the aging farmer corrects Geralt with a little frown. Then his expression shifts and he smiles in a way that seems almost apologetic. “We were hoping you could find a way to relocate him without hurting or killing him, Master Witcher.”

“That’s completely possible, if he isn’t attached to this specific patch trees by any magical or biological means. You said his natural habitat is just… the forest?”

“As long as there's an abundance of pine around he seems pretty happy. Before he came to live with us, Mothman lived in a heavily forested area up the coast; or at least that’s what the historical records and local mythology seem to indicate.”

“That’s actually pretty helpful information to have on hand, I’m impressed,” Geralt nods. “Alright, Mr. Stevens. I promise to relocate the poor thing without killing or maiming him, and I’ll be sure to take him somewhere far enough away that your crops won’t be in danger. Thanks for calling me first instead of just going straight to an extermination service.”

“Honestly, Master Witcher,” the farmer sighs and readjusts his dirty baseball hat, “If it weren’t for the mischief he’s been getting into lately, we would have let him stick around until spring. I hate to admit it to a man as strong and stern-faced as yourself, but the poor creature is almost… adorable at times.”

“Well that’s a first,” Geralt chuckles, honestly amused by the situation he’s found himself in. “A monster being referred to as ‘adorable’ rather than ‘terrifying’. I’ve never heard such a thing in my many years of life.”

“Then you’d better prepare yourself, Sir Geralt. He’s got a pair of big blue puppy-dog eyes that’ll knock you on your ass if you aren’t careful. And that’s coming from a man who raised three daughters with dimples.”

“Hmm. Fuck.”

---

Geralt knows enough about moths to come up with a plan he thinks will work.

Before he heads into the woods to find and capture the poor wandering creature, the Witcher takes a detour through the lighting section of the nearest Lowe’s.

---

Unfortunately for Geralt, the farmer was right about the power of Mothman’s puppy dog eyes, which are big and blue and begin to water as soon as the Witcher’s net knocks him to the ground. The creature lies in a whimpering tangle of limbs beneath the heavy, magically enhanced restraints. Geralt takes an opportunity to look at what the locals called "a cryptid".

Mothman has a long, lithe body that's covered in a light layer of grey-brown fur, but his hair resembles that of a human’s, falling over those enormous blue eyes in a lovely chestnut fringe. When Mothman sees the swords on Geralt’s back he cries out in panicked recognition and tries to pull his arms up far enough to shield his face. The lamp Geralt used to lure him into the clearing is still bathing him in a pool of yellow light; it’s almost pretty for a monster, Geralt notes.

As the Witcher takes a step forward, the cryptid squeaks and buries his face against his own shoulder. His entire frame is trembling.

“Hey there, shhhhh,” the Witcher murmurs quietly. He drops into a squat and holds both hands up to show Mothman that they’re weapon free. Tears are now falling freely down the creature’s surprisingly human face; whoever or whatever this is, they are likely some kind of Fae. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to get you back through the veil.”

“Liar,” Mothman huffs. His voice has a surprisingly musical quality to it and Geralt is now sure of his Fae parentage (or grand-parentage).

“I promise I’m not lying,” Geralt reassures him, slowly crawling forward. When he reaches for the nearest corner of the net, he feels all of Mothman’s muscles go tense. “I’m going to lift this up and I am going to restrain you, but I swear that I’m not going to kill you. I wish to cause as little distress as possible. Is that alright, Mothman?”

The creature hisses and yanks his foot back away from where Geralt’s hand had nearly touched it. “Jaskier.”

“Hmm?” Geralt glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“My name is Jaskier,” the Fae repeats, glaring up from between the sections of woven rope that make up the heavy net. “Not Mothman.”

“My apologies, Jaskier,” Geralt bows his head. He words his introduction carefully, in case this thing can manipulate his name like others of his kind: “You may refer to me as Geralt.”

“That’s your real name,” Jaskier states. The Witcher’s head snaps up.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sticks his tongue out as he mimics the sound Geralt made earlier. “Not telli-AH! Stop! Oh go- gods, stop! Please!”

Geralt drops the short section of rope he’s trying untangle from around Jaskier’s ankle and snaps his eyes upwards, already searching for damage. “What’s wrong!?”

“My wing!” Jaskier bawls. His scent spikes out through the clearing, sharp with panic and pain. The creature’s chest begins to shake more violently than before, his shoulders shuddering with the rising force of his sobs, “It’s t-t-torn! Oh gods, my wing! Sir Witcher, p-please!”

Geralt freezes, his gaze settling on the torn section of Jaskier’s large, furry wing. It’s a nasty wound near one of the joints, a faint trickle of barely-luminescent blood has already dried around the edges. Jaskier tries to flutter it a little and screams in agony when the muscles shift too suddenly, shrilly enough that Geralt needs to cover his hypersensitive ears. The Witcher's heart crashes down into his boots; based on the way the shivering Fae has gone pale and silent, the pain is too much for him to process. He’s gone into shock.

A torn wing is exactly the kind of thing Geralt had promised the farmer (and the collective of townspeople he represented) wouldn’t happen to the peaceful moth creature if they hired a Witcher instead of an exterminator. He sighs and gives the strange being another once-over. “Everything's alright, Jaskier. You’re going to be alright. I’m so, so sorry that you've been wounded. We’ll get you out of this net and get you something for the pain, but it’s going to hurt a little to untangle you. Stay still, don’t struggle, and it’ll be over soon.”

“J-Just kill me,” Jaskier pants. He’s continuing to hyperventilate and Geralt needs him to calm down before he passes out. The Fae reaches a hand for the dagger at Geralt's waist and the Witcher twists out of reach with a frown. Jaskier sobs again, fingers still seeking, “I might n-n-never fly a-again so just k-kill me!”

“Breathe with me, Jaskier,” the Witcher instructs, forgoing patience and cutting through the net with that same dagger. He scoops Jaskier up into his arms, ignoring the keening sound at the back of Jaskier’s throat when his wing is jostled, and rushes the Fae to his truck, tucking him into the passenger’s seat and wrapping him in a large, fluffy blanket. “I’m taking you to my friend. She’s an expert at healing magical creatures and I'm certain that she'll get your wing fixed in no time.”

Jaskier doesn’t give an answer. When Geralt looks up into the creature’s face again, the injured Fae has already passed out.

---

Jaskier moves with all the grace of a newborn foal as he explores the room Geralt has provided for him. His wing has been inspected, treated, and bandaged by a rather scary sorceress named Yennefer, who glared at the Witcher the entire time she was caring for him. She had also taken one of Geralt’s old t-shirts and cut an enormous hole in the back for Jaskier’s wings to fit through. The shirt’s bottom hem falls to the middle of his thighs and the thick black material is softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

He hears a knock on the door and calls out, “It’s open!”

Geralt enters slowly, bearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a mug of tea. “I brought you some last minute supplies and - uh… I brought you some tea. Yen always likes some before she goes to sleep and I figured since this was a new place and new places can be scary that I should-”

“Thank you,” Jaskier interrupts, smiling shyly. His antennae twitch happily as he takes the offerings from Geralt's hands and the Witcher watches them with wide eyes. Jaskier carefully sets the pajamas and the tea on the nightstand before turning back to look at Geralt. “I will… see you tomorrow?”

Geralt gives one sharp nod. “Hmm.”

“Goodnight,” Jaskier sing-songs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as Geralt exits.

From the other side of the closed door, Jaskier’s superior hearing picks up the Witcher’s final whisper: “Goodnight, Jaskier. I will always be sorry for causing you pain.”

The next morning he meets Geralt at the breakfast table, refreshed and ready to learn about the human world. He’s summoned a glamour in order to hide his more Moth-like traits, the only things that remain of his true nature are his wings and antennae; his fur is gone and he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants and that same old shirt. The Witcher offers him a bowl of fruit and mug of something sweet-smelling. Jaskier glares into the mug with a slight pout to his lips before finally asking, “What is this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

Jaskier takes a sip and his antennae flutter, twitching happily as he swallows the best drink he’s ever had in his long life. He eats a strawberry from the bowl and slowly works his way through the hot chocolate, eyeing Geralt warily as the Witcher moves through the familiar kitchen to make his own breakfast.

“Where is Yennefer?”

“She went home,” Geralt shrugs.

“She isn’t your mate?”

“N-No,” Geralt sputters, turning to stare at the nervous young Fae. “Why would you think that?”

“You smell like each other.”

“We spend a lot of time together,” Geralt shrugs again. “Good friends, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier mimics his host for a second time. Rather effectively by the annoyed twitch at the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Just wondering.”

“Anything else you’re curious about?”

“Why don’t you have more lights?”

“Huh?”

“Lights,” Jaskier gestures around the minimalistic layout of Geralt’s open-concept kitchen/living room and its distinctive lack of lamps. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward against the dark marble countertop. The pout has gone from 'slight' to 'full-bore' and Geralt is clinging desperately to his braincell with how cute it looks. “It’s no fun.”

“You really like lamps, don’t you?” the Witcher replies, mouth dry. Jaskier huffs and takes another sip of his hot chocolate, antennae flickering back and forth in irritation. Geralt bites his lip to hide a smile; it’s too fucking cute, which is an odd thought for a Witcher to have.

“So what if I do enjoy a nice lamp or five in my living space?” Jaskier argues. "I'm a Moth of taste."

“No matter,” Geralt laughs quietly. “Finish your drink before it gets cold.”

---

Jaskier stays with Geralt for a few weeks while his wing heals, and for a creature whose sole interest seems to be fancy light fixtures, the Fae becomes a source of light in Geralt's own world. They go to a nonhuman friendly second-hand store to find Jaskier some more clothes and Geralt discovers the cryptid's love for oddly patterned shirts in bright colors. Jaskier chooses several to fill out his closet, as well as a sweater two-sizes too large in deep black (Geralt tries his best not to attach any meaning to this choice), a few pairs of pants, and a jean jacket that he declares, "Can be altered."

They watch movies together and make food together - Jaskier is always incredibly impressed by the way the automatic coffee maker works, and how easily Geralt can control the flames of the stove. Jaskier also follows the Witcher along on less dangerous hunts and helps bandage him up after worse ones, always there with a smile and a little kiss over the cleaned-up wound.

“It really is magic,” Jaskier always insists, lips pink and shining from licking them as he concentrates. "It makes you heal faster."

Geralt realizes one night - two weeks into Jaskier’s stay, as he leans against the doorframe and watches the strange creature’s even breathing - that he has gone and done the stupidest thing a Witcher can do: fall in love with a pretty, temperamental young Fae. Head over fuckin’ heels, actually.

So he makes a decision.

---

The next evening, after the dinner dishes have been cleaned and put away, Geralt herds Jaskier down the hall to the guest room. Those entrancing blue eyes blink up at him in obvious confusion. “Bedtime already?”

“No, not quite. I just- I made you… uh…”

“Do you have a surprise for me?” Jaskier asks, used to the Witcher's issues with verbalizing.

Geralt nods, relieved and thankful for the Fae’s steadfast understanding. “Do you want to cover your eyes or should I just open the door and show you?”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Jaskier smiles, covering his eyes with both hands. Geralt finds it adorable, as Jaskier always is, and allows himself a matching grin as he swings the door open. The ceiling light is off but Geralt has built a blanket fort at the center of the room and surrounded it with fairy lights of all colors and sizes. Inside the blanket fort is a mass of blankets and pillows; Jaskier has the odd habit of building nests - Geralt jokingly calls them cocoons - and sleeping in those on the floor instead of on the very comfortable mattress the Witcher has provided.

“Open them,” Geralt urges.

Jaskier pulls his hands away and Geralt watches as his pupils go huge and wide. Jaskier's face breaks out in the sunniest, most blindingly happy smile Geralt has ever seen. He turns and throws his arms around the Witcher, his wings fluttering behind him and his antennae twitching and flicking above his head. He tries desperately to speak but only manages a half-snuffled little “I’m-” before bursting into tears of joy.

Geralt just holds him, letting his arms fold carefully around Jaskier’s waist, just beneath his wings.

"I just wanted you to know that, if you wanted to stay, there would be room for you. Your room, if you want it."

"I do," Jaskier smiles, burying his face in the Witcher's neck. "I'd love to stay. I'd love nothing more than to spend my days going on adventures with you."

"Well then," Geralt gathers all of his courage and presses a soft kiss to the crown of Jaskier's head. He's met with happy spasms from the antennae so he does it again. And again. Moving from the top of the Fae's head to his cheeks and then his mouth - pretty and pink and pouting and so worth the trouble. "I suppose we can get started on our next adventure tomorrow."

[57greenstreet]

Gossip Guy podcast with Willem De Schryver

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYjtRYOGS00

translated by @jackfrostsander @bruisingknees @lblogss @yousmina and me :)

-

E: I do have another present for you.

W: Oei oei oei, presents.

E: I do that every week. I give something to my guest of the week.

W: Oei oei oei. Do I slide it?

E: Here in the front is a flap that you have to fold upwards…

[Intro]

E: Wassup people, welcome to a new episode of the Gossip Guy podcast. My name is Ender Scholtens and today I’m here with Willem De Schryver. Everything ok?

W: Sure sure (In Dutch sure is used as a confirmation to a question).

E: Is this your first podcast?

W: Yes, this is my first podcast.

E: Stress?

W: No, it will be fine, right? Relaxed.

E: I don’t know… (laughing). For the people who don’t recognize you, from where could they know you?

W: Hmmm, probably from the youth series WTFOCK where, in the third season, I play the role of Sander.

E: And we are allowed to talk about it in this podcast.

W: Yeah I also heard that. Yes, it’s over.

E: Was it a difficult chapter of your life to close?

W: Yes, I still clearly remember the last moment… Like really the last last scene at the sea… That was an emotional moment because you went through a lot as a group, you did a lot together, and emotional scenes, intimate scenes. But yes, I think, if I speak for the whole group that it was a goodbye to the series but not a goodbye from each other. We still keep in contact. Mainly through WhatsApp.

E: Yeah, the end of the series was beautiful. I sat next to my girlfriend when it just came online. Because there were a few scenes that we hadn’t seen yet and we were just watching them… And we refreshed and the last episode was online… The last piece was online… So, I thought… I really cried… It caused quite some emotions.

W: For many people… Also under the cast and even the extras that were present for that last scene… Even among them. I can remember that they got emotional because it really was over over. I think that we, WTFOCK, have been able to impact a lot of young people in Belgium. So, it’s beautiful… We closed it beautifully…

E: I don’t doubt that. I really liked the end. What is your favorite memory from your whole WTFOCK experience?

W: Hoh, hmmm. Do I have to choose one? Difficult to choose one… I think that the most enjoyable moments… At the end of each series… Almost… We were at the sea or in the Ardennes, as a group, for a vacation. Away together. And those moments… Away with the whole cast and crew… Being away for a whole weekend. And in the evening, talking late into the night and that creates a special connection and I think that, in general, was the most enjoyable… Yes, it affects me… You share, as a young person, a common dream or something we want to realize as an actor to succeed and everyone who works so hard for that… That’s nice to see.

E: I recently talked to Veerle and I know that if she sees Nora, like somewhere, say at a party… Then they stay together for the whole evening… Do you have that? With who did you have the best connection throughout that whole experience?

W: Yes…

E: That doesn’t mean that the rest is not chill or so…

W: No the rest is all stupid… There’s only one person… I hate you all! (joking) No! Yes, hmmm, I think that I definitely have the best connection with Willem. Just because we have been through a lot… I always compare the WTFOCK crew a bit to my own friend group, aside from the cast. I mean, I know to whom I can go for what. I know I can go to some if I feel sad, to talk and I know who I can go to to have a laugh. And who I can go to to have a general chat. And everyone has their qualities or like their own aura around them… Where I love to hang around. So, it differs from person to person. So, it’s hard to choose one person but Willem then in the sense that, if you jump naked together in a swimming pool and if you have intimate scenes together… That creates a connection, of course. So, yes, if I have to choose one person…

E: Is there a barrier that you have to overcome to play such scenes? Because they are very intimate, indeed. And I, personally, couldn’t imagine… I can’t act… But, to empathize with a role… To play such scenes… Is that difficult for you?

W: Huh, yes, that’s a question I get often. I mean like… Yeah and you have to empathize with that character… But yes, you step into that project with a certain professionalism and you say “okay, we are going to create a story and bring it to the public with certain values and that we want to tell something and show something” …So, yes, you don’t really think about it. So, it’s not like I thought “Ooooo, I am kissing with a boy but I am interested in girls”. That was not a problem for me because it really is about telling the story and making that together and if the story requires that then you just completely go for it.

E: That’s cool. What are your future acting ambitions? You now have played in a series, is that something you want to do more in the future or do you like theatre more or movie or…

W: I find it difficult to choose between theatre and film, for example. After WTFOCK I played in Déjà Vu, which you can see on Streamz and later this year on Channel 4… And I study theatre at KASK. And I notice the difference, due to the recordings, I am really in the field and I am busy and I work, while at school I learn new things about theatre… So, in my opinion I have more experience in television work because I actually have done projects for that and I haven’t yet for theatre, which is still school and learning. So, I think it’s currently hard to choose but I think, maybe it’s a cliché answer, but the combination is maybe ideal, of course. But I am still exploring and I will see how it goes…

7:02

E: What is your favorite food?

W: My favorite food?

E: Yes.

W: Hmmmm, in the past I was really a basic guy… Like spaghetti bolognese or so… But now, generally after my exams, I go to a restaurant with my grandma. She always buys. That’s always amazing. I am a fan. And I always take steak tartare with fries. That remains a bit of a guilty pleasure.

E: How long, do you think, would it take you to eat five full plates of spaghetti bolognese?

W: Hoh, hmmm. The thing is, my stomach is rather small…

E: Small?

W: I think that I would have to schedule in… Okay, after a certain time I would have to throw up and then eating further…

E: You’re allowed to take a break. You’re allowed to say… Okay, I take a few days…

W: No, no, not that…

E: You’re going to do it in a day?

W: Look, two plates… Three if I really push…

E: You get preparation time so you know like a week before… So, you can like…

W: Train yourself?

E: Yes, train…

W: Hoh, alee say about four hours…

E: Four hours?! Five plates, he? Like five really big plates…

W: Yeah but yeah, four minutes… I am exaggerating… Let’s say a day… In a day five plates…

E: Ok, that should work. Then you basically have every meal… Breakfast… Lunch… Dinner… and in between… pasta…

W: Pasta as breakfast…

E: One day should definitely be feasible.

W: Yes, indeed.

8:49

E: What is, according to you, the reason you were placed on this planet?

W: Fuck (laughs).

E: Existential crisis, okay? Have you never thought about what the purpose of life is and what…

W: Yes, certainly… Hmmm, I'm someone who worries a lot. When I'm in bed in the evening I start to think about questions like that and then I think “what am I doing? Willem… where do I want to go to and…” Hmmm, why was I put on this planet? Hmmmm… (speechless followed by laughing). This is really bad… It’s like I don’t value myself…

E: Noooo, but I didn’t expect a deep philosophical answer. Well, if you had one… really good but…

W: Okay I’m going to think about my philosophical answer… but no. If you want… No! Yes, now I'm really going to sound philosophical but… (crosstalk) Everyone who is on earth has a certain reason to be here and everyone… I for example have that… I really feel that… I never liked going to school. Especially, in lower and high school. I… I actually, on purpose, put my fingers in my throat in the morning to throw up…

E: Wow, that’s heavy…

W: And then going downstairs to say “papa I’m ill, can I stay home?” I don’t know why but that whole system… Sitting behind a desk all day… And those classes… that was not for me. And then I discovered my passion for acting and discovered that it really suited me. And that’s the thing… A lot of people often ask me like “how did you start?” and “I also would like to do that and where do I start and I have been rejected does that mean I am not good enough?” but I think that sometimes you shouldn’t rush to find your passion. It can take longer then you would like it to take. I think that if you too intensively search for "what am I good at?" and “I have to find something that I am good at” and… For me that’s happened unexpectedly. I did take acting classes on Wednesday afternoons after school and I kind of got into it like that… I think it differs for everyone and that everyone has their own purpose here on earth.

E: And would you say your purpose is acting?

W: Yeah…

E: There isn’t a right answer but how does it feel for you at the moment? Is that the thing you love doing the most or do you see yourself doing for a long time?

W: The thing is… I’m a person who gets tired of things very quickly. I’ve had a lot of hobbies.

E: So maybe next week you want to garden or something?

W: No, no I wouldn’t say that. No the thing is, with acting that isn’t the case. Since I was twelve… well first on amateur level…

E: How old are you now?

W: 19.

E: Oh wow I thought you were my age. 19… damn bro you’re three years younger than me.

W: 2001 represent.

E: That’s literally… you’re the same age as my brother! What the shit. Alright, no okay.

W: In November so almost 2002. I’m really a latecomer.

E: What?! You look like you’re the same age as me and everything.

12:14

W: But that’s honestly – thank you for saying that! I always used to be the “little guy.” None of the girls wanted to be with me cause they just thought I was cute.

E: I see.

W: And they came to me to talk about their love lives.

E: Oh, okay.

W: So I was always that guy who was like: “I’m in love with you.” “Oh, how cute! You’re so cute!” So I was always like: “Okay then, I’m never going to find anyone, I’m always going to stay… short. I’ll be all alone.” And then all of a sudden I –

E: Do you think height matters in regard to your chances with certain… people?

W: At this age I don’t think it does anymore, but I do think that – I think at – I just remember in high school that the romantic idea of what love was supposed to look like was very: a boy and a girl, and the boy has to be taller and stronger and bigger than the girl. But I think that now it’s more… I mean, at my age I’m convinced it’s more fluid than that, and it doesn’t have to be that way. So it doesn’t have to be an issue anymore.

E: But still, when you go on Twitter, short guys are still –

W: Yeah.

E: Totally annihilated.

W: I have notice – I have noticed – Yeah, it’s still… It’s still this… general thing that people get stuck on. Like: “Oh, a short dude. That’s not okay.” Or whatever.

E: Or like the guy has to be taller. But no, we’re – we’re – not… not all relationships… we’re really generalizing here. But I get what you mean.

W: Yeah.

E: No, it’s – I do think it’s still important. I think that when you’re, and this is really harsh, but that a lot of people look at you differently when you’re taller. I have this dude in my friend group, Louis Ledegen, and he’s close to 2 meters tall, and just some girls look at him and they just think that’s so… attractive or whatever. And I just can’t even imagine.

W: I don’t get that either.

E: That that makes them go like: “Wow!”

W: I was in the train just now and this dude walked by me and he was honestly like 2 meters tall and I was just thinking: “When you’re that tall, and you’re with…” I mean, the girl almost has to get on a stepping stool to reach him for a kiss! And girls are like – I mean, I’ve heard before that girls think it’s attractive when a man is really tall.

E: Yeah.

W: And yeah, I don’t know… I don’t totally get it.

E: No.

W: Maybe it’s cause I’m not that tall myself, that I’m like trying to protect myself and be all: “That’s not necessary!”

E: Yeah! If anybody knows the answer, do we, being shorter guys, have less of a chance?

W: Let us know, please.

14:53

E: Please let us know! We need some answers! Now in the show, wtFOCK, your hair’s a different color.

W: Yeah.

E: Yeah. Is that something… So that was actually – it wasn’t really blonde?

W: It was completely bleached.

E: Bleached.

W: It was more to the… But the thing is that they had to do it twice, cause the first time… I got there, for the first table read with the director and Willem [Herbots] and they were like: “Hey, Willem. We wanted to ask you something. We’d like to bleach your hair for the role.”

E: Yeah.

W: And I was like: “… Okay.”

E: Okay.

W: “And why?” No. “Just for the character and stuff.” So I was like: “Okay. That’s fine.” The thing is I had to be at the hairdresser for 4 hours for this.

E: Oh wow, heavy.

W: It was like this and this product, and it had to sit for a long time. It had to be bleached all over. And I got out of there the first time and I was completely yellow – but yellow like an egg.

E: Oh, shit!

W: And I… My mom dropped me off, and I texted her: “I’m done, will you come get me?” And I saw my mom approach and she just passed me by.

E: Oh wow.

W: She didn’t – she almost didn’t recognize me anymore. Like halfway - she was like – and then she was like: “Oh! Willem!” Like she hadn’t seen –

E: Oh shit.

W: That it was me. That I looked completely different. And then I arrived for another table read and Tom [Goris – director] was like: “Yeah… We’re not gonna go this route… This is too yellow.” So then I spent another 4 hours at the hairdresser. After that I had to be there for four hours almost every month. I did think it was cool to have bleached hair, but… You have to be at the hairdresser for so long, so that really wasn’t… my thing. I mean, I had some really cool moments with Mitch [Fabry – hair & make up wtFOCK]. Thanks, Mitch.

E: Would you ever dye your hair again?

W: Uhm.

E: Maybe another color?

W: Yeah, I don’t think so. I’m quite happy with my hair color, actually, I don’t know.

E: Alright.

W: Now it’s also like… Everyone always asks me: “So this is your natural hair color?”

E: Yeah.

W: And then I have to tell them: “Yeah.” And it’s like: “Oh, okay!” It’s this switch. But no, I’m happy with my hair. It’s fine.

17:03

E: I can also tell that you’ve got an earring? You can’t really tell on camera, but –

W: I’ll come a little closer [to the camera]. Yeah, I only got it recently, four weeks or something.

E: Yeah. Was it an impulsive, drunken decision, or something you wanted… for some time?

W: I’ve wanted it for a long time, but I was a little anxious about it like: “It’s not gonna look good on me,” and then after a while, a couple of months ago, I was like: “Fuck it, I’m just gonna do it.” And if it didn’t look good I could still just take it out, so it doesn’t really matter. But all in all I was pretty happy with it. My father, my parents – my mom: “Oh, so nice!!” And it was like – at first they give you a stud and then after four weeks you can change it to a hoop. And I really wanted a hoop, and I even asked the people in the (piercing) shop: “Can’t I please just get a hoop straight away?” And they were like: “No, sorry, it doesn’t work like that. For hygiene reasons that’s not okay.”

E: Okay.

W: But okay, so I had to wait four weeks and then eventually I could change it to the golden hoop. So I get home and the first thing my father said was: “Wow, you look like a douchebag.” That was the first thing out of his mouth, that I looked like a douchebag.

E: Is that the look you were going for?

W: No, not at all! Not at all!

E: I think it looks cool.

W: Thanks.

E: Cause a little while ago I wanted one, and so I put on my girlfriend’s earring – because even if your ear isn’t pierced it sticks a little –

W: Yeah.

E: And so I just put it on there for a day or something, and then I was like: “Okay, that’s quite enough.” I don’t know if I’d want it for longer than that. Recently I’ve been getting into rings and stuff though.

W: I wore rings for a long time, but I don’t have any anymore. I actually want – I like them too. But I have to –

18:47

E: If I’d known, I would’ve brought you a gift!

W: Go shopping. Goddamn!

E: I did bring you another gift though!

W: Another gift? Oei oei oei, gifts!

E: This is something I do every week,  I give my guest of the week something.

W: Oei oei oei. 

E: It’s just…

W: Do I just slide it –

E: There’s a little hatch over here, that you have to lift, and then you can just lift it like that. There we go.

W: There we go.

E: White hairspray.

W: If I’d want to go back to – there we have it. Too good.

E: It can be washed out really easily as well. So this way you don’t have to be at the hairdresser for like four hours. And then when you’re sick of it, you can just get rid of it again!

W: That was the thing… Thank you, by the way.

E: You’re very welcome.

W: Now I can go back – Now I can go back to my past life. No, that was the thing as well. People who – people who - after wtFOCK came online, people really recognized me with the white hair. I mean, it’s pretty noticeable, when I’m walking through Ghent station – if someone with bleached hair. I mean, if you watch the show, I can imagine that when you see someone with bleached hair, you immediately connect the two and think: “Oh, that could be him.” And then you run in to some people who ask for pictures. After that my hair was really short, cause the people from Déja-Vu were like: “We’re not gonna do this, just go back to your natural hair color.” So I cut it all off, and there was this time where… nobody came to talk to me anymore. I was able to just be myself again. It was as if – looking back on it, it was actually really nice that for wtFOCK I was able to completely get into a different character with different hair. And the first time I got rid of the hair I really noticed that was no longer being associated with the character.

E: Hannah Montana vibes! Your hair changes color and nobody knows who you are anymore.

W: “Who are you?”

E: “Who the fuck are you?!”

W: “Does anybody want to take pictures with me? It’s me! It’s me! I swear!”

E: “I’m that dude from wtFOCK! I’m that dude from wtFOCK!”

W: So if people don’t recognize me anymore I can just… *pshhht* in the morning.

E: Exactly! If you want to take some more pictures, you can just…

W: No, no. That’s fine. No, yeah.

E: It’s kind of crazy, actually. Because, honestly? The very first time I saw a flash of you, with this hair color, I also thought: “I recognize you from somewhere…” But I think I’d already gotten in contact with you through social [media] and I didn’t put two and two together that you…

W: Yeah.

E: “Aaah!”

W: “Aaah! You’re that guy!”

E: Yeah, so…

W: But that’s the whole thing. If someone recognizes me, which doesn’t happen that often by the way, it’s always – I think it’s funny to be like: “No, that’s not me.”

E: No.

W: People really start doubting themselves, it’s very: “Uhm, can I ask you a question? Are you that guy from wtFock?” “Me? No.”

E: “No!”

W: “That’s not me.” And people will often be like: “Oh? What? But I recognize you…” That doubt on their faces is pretty funny but yeah, then I tell them it’s me.

E: Just the reaction of someone being like: “Huh, do I know you from somewhere?” “Do you watch porn?”

W: The confrontation.

E: “Oh… qmdkjg.” And it’d be even better if the parents were right there as well. “Argh!”

W: “Yes, Jürgen, care to explain yourself, young man?”

E: No, it’s just funny to joke about. But you’ve never – Do you just get: “Hey, are you that guy from wtFOCK?” Or have people also asked you: “Do I know you from somewhere?” Or: “What do I know you from?”

W: Yeah, it depends. The thing is – I go to school in Ghent and when the [popular place where college students go out] was still open before Covid-19, not that I went there often because I didn’t really like it there –

E: No.

W: - in the sense that the combination of young people who –

E: Watch wtFOCK.

W: - watch wtFOCK and alcohol – and people who’ve had alcohol to drink –

E: And are horny?

W: - their limits or boundaries are just gone. “Oh my god!!! You’re that dude from wtFOCK!! Can I kiss you??” Things like that!

E: Oh, fuck!

W: And I was really like: “Okay…?” I’m just a regular dude and I’m trying – and I actually thought it was less annoying for myself, but I thought it was more disruptive for my friends. Like even when we were just walking down the street, we got recognized a couple of times, and I was just like: I just want to have fun with my friends, and not have to spend too much time thinking. That’s another thing I was subconsciously thinking about. Imagine I drink way too much.

E: Yeah.

W: And I end up in the gutter somewhere, and people start filming that… So yeah, that made… So because of that I spent more time in friends’ dorm rooms just having dorm parties.

E: And since your bleached hair is gone, have you gone to a party?

W: When my bleached hair was gone corona was already a thing so I haven’t been able to enjoy it. But it’s starting to come back [the parties] so that’s nice. I’m looking forward to… tomorrow I’m going-

E: Are you going as well?

W: Are you going to Plein Air by Fuse?

E: Tomorrow I’m going to Jaimie Lee who-

W: …Is going to DJ at three festivals.

E: Yeah at three festivals and I will be backstage I guess.

W: Okay.

E: One of those festivals?

W: Yeah I don’t know. I have tickets for Fuse Open Air in Brussels.

24:19

E: I honestly have no idea where I’m going. Anyway, I’m excited. And I always asked, what’s the first event you went to ever since it’s allowed? Did you go to We Can Dance festival?

W: No I was studying.

E: Was today your last exam or yesterday?

W: Yesterday was my last exam in the morning. I was stressing so much, because I thought I would fail, but eventually I think it went relatively well. If you’re watching professors, let me pass please. No I think it went well.

E: Are you someone who is stress resistant?

W: Uhh no.

E: No?

W: I let it take over my body.

E: You get physically unwell?

W: I will be laying in bed and I’m tossing and turning and sweating. And I think about how I’m not gonna pass tomorrow. And the combination with my worries is really not good. It makes me stay up really late. The thing is with stress resistant, I for example made my own play at high school about a kid with divorced parents for my final work and the whole audience was filled with my family and my parents. That’s pretty confronting to tell a story that’s also a little bit of their life and is pretty personal. I’m always stressed for things like that. Then it’s weird – from the first word I spoke I had a lot of stress and worries and the first sentence that I said was something like “I don’t know what to do”, and then it’s all of a sudden poofff. The train has left.

E: You said you didn’t really know what to do now.

W: That’s the first sentence of the text that I wrote and the moment I said that sentence I thought in my head “the train has left, there’s no way back now” and then the stress disappears automatically. But before the final rehearsal there was a moment that I was moving around heavily and I was throwing with chairs. And afterwards I had to pack moving boxes, which was okay. But from moving around and the combination of stress it made me almost gag in the box from the stress so I almost puked. So at these moments it gets pretty heavy.

E: Did other people notice or were you hiding it?

W: Yeah the final rehearsal was luckily not with an audience, but my teachers were like “Everything alright?” and I was like “Yeah I’m good. It’s a bit much”. But when it comes to stress, a lot of people always say – I’m even a little stressed right now actually.

E: Really?

W: Podcasts, oh no no.

E: Oh shit. You have to be (stressed)

W: A lot of pressure on my shoulder here. No, but a lot of people say that it doesn’t look like that I’m stressed even though I really am dying from all the stress.

E: Only now you can hide it really well. You should become an actor.

W: A lot of people have said that to me often, but it’s not my interest. Also not much work in the field.

E: That too, fuck. Are you someone who constantly pretends like you’re okay?

W: Yes.

E: Even when you have a lot of shit going on in your head and you’re processing other things?

W: I'm one person. One person?

E: "I'm one person" [laughs]

W: I am one person. No, but I'm someone who often keeps their stuff to themselves, so that I can listen to what others need.

28:15

E: That was my next question. You listen more to other people’s problems and you’re the person people come to with their problems?

W: I think, at least I hope, that a lot of my friends do know that they can always come to me for a talk or a phone call. I'm someone that will shove away their happiness for someone else, which isn’t always positive of course.

E: It is a beautiful characteristic, but it shouldn’t take over indeed.

W: In the past it has happened that I was falling apart, but I kept pushing it away, because I wanted to take care of someone else. I noticed this a lot during the divorce of my parents. My parents had a hard time with the divorce and I remember that I came home as a little boy and I saw my mom sitting and I felt the duty to comfort her and to be there for her, even though I was 8 or 9 years old. That’s not something you expect to do or think from an 8 year old. It really broke me and now I can openly speak about it, because I have had enough conversations with my parents about it, about how it was for me. And I made a play about it, as I told earlier, so it’s been a whole process and that has scarred me till at least my 16th. My parents got divorced when I was 5 or 6 years old. It took me a long time to open up because of that. I notice it a lot in previous relationships, that I walk away from fights, because I would find the confrontation too heavy to get into a fight and to discuss. The divorce and fights with my parents scarred me so hard that I didn’t want that again. I wanted everything to be rainbow and sunshine, but life doesn’t work like that. And that was partly a misconception from me, that I thought that a relationship had to be perfect, if there is a fight, then it’s not going well. Now I realize that fights are part of a relationship. And also part of steps you take into accepting each other, listening to each other and understanding each other. It’s needed for a stronger connection. You can’t, well you can, but in my eyes you can’t be with someone for a long time without ever having had a conflict. Even if it’s a discussion, because then you’re adapting too much to the other, and then you say okay, I’m adapting to the demands of her and I suppress my own things or things I want to do, only to avoid the discussion, and that’s something I learned. And that’s how everyone learns their own things along the way.

E: You still see it in the youth, those romantic movies, where everyone is so in love and it always ends with a kiss or something and it’s always good and then you think, this must be the case in real life. Why can’t I find Gabriella Montez for my Troy Bolton. Even though that was a shitty relationship too, they were constantly fighting. No, but that gives a wrong image about relationships and for other things because of movies. And the reality is just different.

32:16

W: Yes. I recently for the first time -this is kinda embarrassing because it’s a must see- watched The Notebook.

E: Me too! What did you think?

W: It has been a few weeks ago. Or a few weeks, maybe 3 or something.

E: I watched it last weekend.

W: I almost cried.

E: Really?

W: I’m a really emotional person. I can really cry. I can really get lost in a movie. “No not the puppy, why?!” Those things, where I think "Willem, act normal". But no it was a beautiful movie.

E: Yeah I have a different opinion, because I just fell asleep. I fell asleep, because it all went so slow, it started so slow. I didn’t even watch the kiss in the rain scene.

W: The moment. It’s in literally every romantic movie. In the rain, it happens everywhere.

Ender: Yeah mate, it’s such a cliché actually, but yeah.

W: I bet you that they’re just standing there with a garden hose.

E: Definitely.

W: It can’t be that they’re waiting, “is it gonna rain today? We need to do that scene now”.

33:27

E: Checking the rain alarm while everyone is inside. There are definitely sprinklers there. It’s in a lot of romantic movies. Now that we’re talking about it, the filming you did with wtFock, you sometimes had scenes outside. Here we have those (light) spots, I assume that you don’t carry them outside. How do you guys do that?

W: Sometimes we do have spots outside, but as long as the light from the sun is okay – with a binocular (telescope), well it’s not a binocular, it’s a round thing you can look through and with it they can determine the brightness of the sun and if the sun is too bright for the lightning they need, then it gets shielded, the same that is in front of your lamps. With that they can dim the lights. Or when there is not enough they use isomo plates, that’s really weird. Sometimes there are really intimate scenes in a series where it looks like it’s really close to the skin of the actors. There is a camera with a plate on it and a stick for the sound above it, it sometimes made it really hard for me to focus, because everyone is sitting there and the director and I’m like “yeah, okay okay”. So it takes a lot to get it all professional.

E: Was there a crazy moment where you forgot your lines? That you’re laying in bed and you’re like “which sentence do I have to say now?”

W: Yeah we’ve definitely had a lot of bloopers. Yeah forgetting lines or.. the thing is, as long as the director doesn’t say cut, you have to keep going. It’s a matter of "how do I improvise myself around this scene to get to the point we actually have to get to", because you have a scene and you have your lines, but if you forget something, then you do know the main lines of where the scene has to go to. You know the scene will end in a kiss or something and these subjects will be spoken about in the conversation, so when you forget your lines, you try to work your way through it as best as possible. And when the director says it wasn’t good, then we’ll do it again. I’ve had a lot of moments where I forgot my lines and I was laying in bed with Willem and we would look at each other and we’d know that I had to say something, but I was stuck, so there would be a 10 seconds silence, hoping for them to say cut. Yeah so those kinds of moments a lot or moments where I… I also had that with Déjà Vu. I remember… by the way it was amazing to work together with such big names as Natali Broods and Koen De Graeve. And Koen, lovely person, was kind of the father figure on set and we had a scene, next to the bed, a quite emotional scene. And the camera was focused on me, close up on my face. And I still remember that, the sound was going, everything, and Koen had just told a joke, or made a face that made me laugh. So, I had to laugh really hard, but I had to act very sad. It was an intense scene of goodbyes. All the time, starting to laugh about everything. I still remember for wtFock we made a video with bloopers and those are very fun to watch back.

37:03

E: Are those bloopers ever published somewhere online?

W: I don’t think so.

E: I think if you’d be able to release them somewhere that a lot of people would be interested in them.

W: Yes, yes. I don’t know why, indeed. The fans would be happy with those.

E: I think a lot of people- because we were just talking about your biggest fan.

W: My biggest-

E: Your grandma.

W: My grandma, yes. Big shout out to my grandma.

E: Do you think she’s watching right now?

W: She’ll definitely watch, I hope so.

E: What’s your grandma’s name?

W: Micheline.

E: Micheline, thank you very much for watching Micheline.

W: Micheline.

E: I appreciate it.

W: Women in power. She deserves a special place. No really, she follows all the fan accounts of wtFock. And then sometimes, or very often, we call and she gives me an update of what’s being said on the internet. Or yes, I also remember, when scenes come out and there’s things being said and she’s like "Willem, is that true, what are they saying?" And I say "Grandma, it’s nothing, it’s all from the show." "Ah okay, okay." So yes, very sweet grandma. She’s like the grandma where everything was allowed. I think that’s the same for everyone. At home, there are a lot of rules, and then you got to sleepover at your grandma’s and it was like: "Oh, I get to stay up later, and she made pudding for me." Her vanilla pudding-

E: That good?

W: Grandma, if you’re seeing this, please make some vanilla pudding when I visit.

E: Dude, everything’s falling out of my pocket.

W: You’re letting everything fall out of your pocket? Maybe you need to buy another pair of pants.

E: The chair is too comfortable that I’m kind of sinking in it, and now I constantly get-

W: The conversation’s too comfortable-

E: It’s just my phone, it’s vibrating, I think it just vibrated out of my pocket. So, silent, great. Eh, what were we talking about? About your grandma.

W: About my grandma.

38:46

E: Now, totally different subject. If you were a fish, what color fish would you be?

W: A fish?

E: Which color do you identify most with?

W: Eh.

E: And you’re a fish too of course.

W: Identify with which color. The thing is, I’m in the scouts. And in the Jins, that’s the last year before you become a leader, we were given a color totem, and the whole group decided on a color that fits you.

E: All right.

W: And mine was mango orange.

E: Wow, that’s cool.

W: Yeah, I thought it was cool too. And it means, if I have to think back, mango has quite a hard peel, relatively, but the fruit itself is quite soft. And that refers to my personality. I’m someone that lets people in fast, around me, but in the beginning, suspicion is a little strong, but kind of like, testing. Let’s say that. But once- From the outside I might look a bit hard. A lot of people say that when I have my straight face-

E: Resting bitch face.

W: That I’m angry. I was once told on the subway by a dude, and I was just listening to music, staring in the distance, and I think, suddenly a dude comes up to me, in French: "C’est quoi ton problème, heh, tu regardes come ça, c’est quoi ton problème." And I was like: "I’m sorry". Apparently, I was looking in his direction with my-

E: Bitch face.

W: Bitch face. He must have thought I was looking for problems. So yeah, that’s why the mango, a little hard on the outside, but once you get to know me better, a soft, sweet boy. So that’s why, orange. So, an orange fish then.

E: A little bit of Nemo vibes.

W: Yes, Nemo then. But let’s, what’s that theory. Did you hear that?

E: Theory?

W: About Nemo.

E: What’s the theory?

W: Haven’t you heard that? I keep seeing that online. I’m having a crisis. So the thing is, your childhood will get ruined.

E: Fuck man.

W: The thing is-

E: But there really are, no keep going, I have something I want to say afterwards.

W: The thing is, I’ve heard, that Nemo is Latin for nobody, and that the father is imagining that he still has an egg left, but that that fish doesn’t actually exist.

E: Oh fuck.

W: And that Dory joins him, and he sees, we’re actually not looking for anyone, but because he has memory issues, he constantly forgets that they’re not looking for anyone. So, they’re actually looking for nobody. And I saw that online and I was like.

E: Damn, so all the eggs are eaten, but he imagines that someone still has to be there.

W: Yes, something to keep living for.

E: Fuck man, that’s very brutal. That’s very fucked up.

W: Sorry to everyone for who Nemo is ruined now.

E: There’s a similar theory about Phineas and Ferb, and then Candice, their sister, is based on a true story about a girl that lost her brothers and still imagines that they're still doing stuff in the garden. And she keeps telling her mom: "Look, look, they are still here, they’re doing that." And that the mom says: "They’re not there." And that’s why she can never see that. You get it? Brutal right?

W: My whole childhood is ruined. Fucking hell.

E: That’s going to be the title of this podcast.

W: Childhood ruined.

E: We’re ruining your childhood.

42:17

W: We’re ruining your childhood. No but that’s good because, thankfully, I have a half-sister, but I say sister because I think half-sister is an ugly word, of seven years old. She thinks she’s 16. She’s a real diva.

E: Oh wow, okay.

W: She’s very, I’ll tell you a story later, but the thing is, I experience all those things with her again. In the beginning it was like, turning the tv on, Bumba, again. And I could secretly watch with her without feeling guilty. I was like, I’m watching Bumba and secretly I’m enjoying it, but sssh, I’m just watching it with my sister.

E: That exactly.

W: And now it’s Ketnet, like Hoodie, those series that she’s watching. And yes, I notice that because of all the technology today, she has an iPad, she’s on YouTube, she’s watching those self-made crafts.

E: 7 years old?

W: 7 years old, yes.

E: Wow.

W: She watches those- where people are playing with Barbies and they make a little play with them online on YouTube and they do stuff. Yes, a tablet. She has an iPad that’s bigger than her head. That makes me think- well, an iPad is usually bigger than everyone’s head. Or well, almost.

E: Not if you have a mini of course.

W: Her head isn’t that big.

E: Okay.

W: She’s on it a lot though. But she’s a real diva. I think the best story I have, there’s multiple. I remember the story, we were sitting at the table and she was having another moment of "I’m the princess, and everyone can leave because I do what I want and fuck you all". But the thing is, there’s five kids at home. I have a brother and two stepbrothers. So, she has four brothers, and she knows very well that she has four brothers. And that makes her feel even more like she’s the princess at home. So, we were sitting at the table. And she kept staring at my dad like this while throwing her cutlery on the ground. Like "what are you going to do". And my dad was like: "Liv," because her name is Liv by the way, "stop that."

E: That wasn’t nice of Liv. (Liv sounds the same as lief which means nice in Dutch.)

W: No. Not nice of-

E: Haha. Sorry.

W: Badam pam ts. Can’t we put that under here. Yes.

E: No, sorry, keep going.

W: So, he was like: "Liv, stop that, stop that." He started to get annoyed, because she kept going. "Liv, what is so hard to understand about no." And then it got silent at the table so I thought, okay, it’s done. The o.

E: Oh wow.

W: 7 years old and she drops that.

E: Oh wow.

W: And I thought, okay.

E: Damn bro.

W: The o. That she even dares to say that. Yeah, and she has those moments. She was sitting at the table, with her mask on, eating. So, she pulled her mask down to eat, and then she was chewing with her mask on. And then I asked: "Liv, why are you wearing your mask?" "Yes, you came back from Ghent, you’re not in my bubble."

E: Okay, okay.

W: So, then I said: "Okay, that’s fine." It’s crazy how that goes around among young children. Because my sister came back home from school crying once. And I asked her: ‘Liv, what’s wrong?’ "Yes, my friends didn’t let me play with them." So, I was like: "Why?" "Margot says I’m not allowed in her bubble."

E: Oh wow.

W: See, that’s becoming the new- we played with Pokémon cards on the playground and now it’s about playing games in bubbles because it’s so-

E: Damn.

W: Yes, you’re only allowed to have four people in your bubble so we don’t play with more than four.

E: Oh wow.

W: So I found that kind of crazy, or confronting that it made me think like, even at such a young age it has an impact. And I know that the-

E: That it leaves an impression.

W: Yes, and I know that my dad-

E: It’s sad that children have to think about it.

W: Yes, exactly.

E: Well, it’s not that- everyone should think about it of course.

W: Yes, yes, of course. It’s also that I know the way my dad feels about raising, that he tells Liv straight up about things that are happening in the world. He doesn’t make things seem nicer, or saying, eh, yes, no, but that’s- The classic story of how babies are made, with the cauliflowers, and what not.

E: I also just think-

W: How am I going to explain that to my kids?

E: If you don’t make it a taboo to start with, is it that bad? It’s just- it’s just. Oh well, that’s a whole other conversation.

W: Yes, no, definitely.

E: But straight up just telling what’s going on to your kids. I think I would prefer that to making up a story about the flowers and the bees.

W: Yes, yes.

E: Because the story about the flowers and the bees, I don’t even know how you actually- pollinating and stuff, is that what that means?

W: You do it like this, pollinating.

E: Yes, no, exactly.

W: Yes, but well, children, that’s still a long time from now.

E: Do you want kids, you think, later?

W: Yes, please.

E: Do you think you would be a good father?

W: I hope I would be a good father. Despite my parents’ divorce, I really do… I do look up to my parents. I’m proud of the way they raised me. So yeah if I would be a good father… sometimes, but maybe that’s the age, kids frustrate me. I’m a leader in the scouts for the Welpen and Welpen -great guys- but they can also be annoying and say “I’m not participating” and “that’s a stupid game, can we do something else?” and I’m like “we invest so much time in this and so much preparation, please participate” so sometimes that bothers me. But I would prefer not to have just one (child). Certainly more than one because… are you an only child?

E: No I have a little brother.

W: Yeah only child… with all due respect to people who are only children but sometimes I think… for example, I’m very happy that I have a brother. Not that it wouldn’t be fun without a brother per se, but I don’t know, the contact I have with my brother is nice.

E: The thing is, you don’t know what you’re missing so it’s hard to miss it I guess. But I do think that my brother has been a great added value to my life.

W: Yeah, yeah.

E: In the same way, I never really had grandparents. They all died before I was born and the grandfather I did have was quite old when I was actually aware that I had a grandfather. So I’ve never really had the grandparents experience that you see with family gatherings and stuff. But I don’t feel like I’ve missed anything but I still know how much other people benefit from having grandparents. Also what you just said about how often you call each other and stuff. I think that’s the same with being an only child. If you don’t have any brothers or sisters, you don’t know what it’s like to have that, what you’re missing. But if you do have it, it’s an added value I think.

W: Yes, exactly. No that’s true. My brother is very helpful to me now. I know that I can count on him.

E: Older or younger by the way?

W: Older.

E: A lot older?

W: 21.

E: 21.

W: Oh boy I had to think about how old my brother is. Embarrassing. Love you man. No but we had - maybe you had that too – but when we were younger, we really fought.

E: Physical?

W: Real fighting. Yeah, it’s has now gotten much better. I think we understand each other a lot better, but it used to be real… we had Catch WW on the Wii and we reenacted that on the couch so that was… “In the right corner Ramy Stereo” and we were bare-chested and both had one boxing glove on and fighting each other until one of us cried, bled or gave up. Usually it was me.

E: That’s just the fate of the little brother.

W: I always went… I’ve never admitted that actually, [whispers] it’s a confession. I’ve never admitted it, but afterwards I always went to my parents and cried “Kwinten hurt me”.

E: That’s really… that’s the moment, you feel it coming and you think “ah fuck no, if I hit again it’s probably over but I want to…” [cross-talk] “no no no don’t tell mom! Don’t tell mom!” I think I was a pretty nice big brother. We often did shit together. We were at home playing on the couch together and Olaf bumps into a large box that was standing there and the box, bigger than Olaf back then, fell down on his hand.

W: Oh shit.

E: So Olaf broke his hand. And I thought “I made him jump over those chairs” and then you have to say “sorry sorry don’t tell them, don’t tell them!” but yeah if your hand is fucking broken, you’re not gonna stop crying because your big brother says “don’t cry”. Yeah, that are…

W: Yes, but the relationship [between Willem and his brother] has improved. Okay we still have our discussions but... I think moments like when we’ve both been to a pub or something and we come home at the same time and we’re always hungry and standing in the kitchen making sandwiches. Those are great moments. I don’t necessarily need to have emotionally heavy of deep conversations with my brother to know that he’s there and that I can have a good time with him. So I think that’s the added value of having a brother or brothers in general.

E: Do you guys also have a specific sense of humor? Or like those moments when the two of you are laughing and your parents or people around you think “what the fuck is going on?”

W: Yeah we speak some slang to each other for fun. Like “stu stu” and [my slang knowledge is very limited so I have no idea what he’s saying here lol], those kinds of things. Typical slang from Brussels and Leuven. It’s funny because my parents are always like “why are you talking to each other like that?” and recently, I was leaving and my mom said “stu stu!” so they are adopting those words and then my brother and I can’t stop laughing.

E: Also if your mom suddenly says “are we going to chill later?” and I’m like [laughing] “what? Mom!”

W: “Okay??”

E: It’s kind of cute. Yeah it’s fun. And what are… I almost want to go deep like…

W: That’s okay.

E: Is there a particular interaction or experience you’ve had with your brother that sums up your relationship right now? Or are those the moments when you’re laughing and eating at night? It doesn’t have to be a super deep or emotional moment.

W: I think it’s an accumulation of those moments and emotional moments too. For example, after it was over with my ex. I was really down back then, it hit me pretty hard. Those are the moments when I can walk into my brother’s room in the middle of the night and he’s there for me. I know that dude is always going to be there when something’s wrong, no matter how much we argue or how much we shit at each other. I just know, and I hope he does too, that I can call him 24/7, walk into his room 24/7 and he will be there or ready to listen. I think that’s just something… the fact that we know that about each other, that creates that bond. And the thing is, if only he would do his best and go to work, earn real money… because we went on holiday together and he still hasn’t… he still has some work to do but we’ve already planned something. I’m really looking forward to it. We’re planning to go surfing in Portugal together. Those are moments I just know I can go somewhere with him and have the time of my life without-

E: …That you can remember for the rest of your life what you did together.

W: Yeah, absolutely. Those moments that I want to cherish or want to keep or experience.

E: My little brother is also just the most annoying dude on this planet who I love the most.

W: Exactly that combination. Annoying, but you love them.

E: Of course. The cameras are back on. That means we’ve been at it for over 50 minutes.

W: 50 minutes? It feels like we’re chatting for 20 minutes.

E: Exactly.

W: Pleasant.

E: That’s good. If it’s pleasant and the stress is gone.

W: Do you actually like me? “No I hate you. We’re going to finish. It has been good.”

55:29

E: No we’re not going to finish yet, but before we do, is there anything you’d like to send out into the world before we finish? On average there are 10 to 50 people watching. Is there anything you want to say to them?

W: To the 10 to 50 people?

E: Yes.

W: 10 to 50 people, you are awesome. No, what I’m saying… maybe a little deep but it doesn’t matter. Very often in your life you are going to encounter that you run into a wall, that you’re going to have setbacks, that you think “I don’t want to anymore, I can’t to this anymore, life is all one big shit show” but I think that there is a certain… at least I believe that – everyone has their own opinion of course- that a certain path has been mapped out for everyone. Not necessarily that things are set in stone but there is a road that you are going to take and that road is going to have curves, is going to have hills, is going to have valleys, is going to have everything. Maybe it’s a gravel path, maybe rocks you stumble over but -it sounds a bit stupid- put on your best walking shoes and just walk that path the best way you can. Just try to live life with complete joy and euphoria because you’re 100% worth it. No matter what other people say or think about your ideology or style or way of life. Everyone is entitled to it or should be given the opportunity to be appreciated for who they are. I think that’s something we do too little in this society, but yeah.

E: Just don’t be too hard on yourself in the end?

W: Yeah, don’t be too hard on yourself. A lot of people blame themselves too much. Or “oh I’m like that and I don’t fit in because of that” or something. Then I think: so be it.

E: Do you sometimes feel that you should do more or have achieved more at this age? Of course you’re already doing a lot of cool shit but social media, I know there is a highlight reel of all people’s achievements and that sometimes it’s very difficult to filter between what is real and how much is that person actually sitting on the couch doing nothing. Do you sometimes feel that because of social media of because of your environment or I don’t know, that you’re not doing enough?

W: Gosh, sometimes I think my life is too full.

E: Too full?

W: Not that I’m saying “oh I have so many things to do” but I’m like... I’m letting that grow organically or so.

E: Not putting too much pressure on yourself?

W: Not putting too much pressure on yourself. I’m doing a course now that I’d like to finish because I’ve had those two projects and there are friends of mine who say “why are you still studying? You’ve had your opportunity, you’re going to get new opportunities right?” and I say “hey! I’m also only 19”. Sometimes I think “fuck Willem you should have achieved more already” but I also think I’m only 19. There was a conversation at school… I really think that’s one of the added values of the course. We receive an observation report twice a year, 5 pages where the teacher writes about you and how they see you, what they think about you, what your qualities are, what you still need to work on. It’s always spot on. So strange how they can just see right through you, even though I sometimes try to hide it. Yeah, where was I going with this… we had subsequent conversation about it and I said to my teacher “sometimes I feel like I’m too young for this course” that I have too little life experience. There are people in my class who are in their 20s or older, who have already studied something else before this, have read a lot more, seen a lot more than me, a lot more experience and I think “fuck, I don’t have anything”. People talk about certain topics and I don’t follow at all. I mentioned that I felt too young and she [the teacher] said “you’re young, but that also has its advantages. Your youthfulness can actually be an interesting tool in this course and look at it from a different perspective”. So I’m convinced: don’t be too hard on yourself, don’t think “whew, I’m already 20 and I haven’t achieved anything yet” so to speak. I even saw a video recently where… “if you don’t make it in your 20s, you might make it in your 30s and if you don’t make it in your 30s, you might make it in your 40s”. There are so many… there really are a lot of people… people often forget that there are people who only find out what they want to do or discover their passion later in life.

E: And also just… I think it’s so ridiculous that you set certain goals for a certain age or something. That it’s so expected that by 18 you must have completed high school and by 25 you must have had your first job interview, by 28/30 you must have a house and a serious relationship where you’re committed to for the rest of your life and by 40 you must have already had a promotion, that you can provide for yourself and fix your pension. All those fucking predetermined milestones. I think that’s kind of bullshit, you know?

W: Absolutely.

E: If that were the case, then I should graduate in a few years so to speak while I’m clearly not studying here because I have – fuck normally I have a re-exam today. And here we are.

W: Here we are.

E: I knew I was doing this but I mean that’s just… there’s so much time. I’m 22 now and I’m doing some shit, if I go nuts now or people don’t want to listen to this podcast anymore, don’t want to see what I do online, okay then I have to look elsewhere. But I did this and I went for it and I tried. I’m 22. Even if I go nuts now and it’s all gone, I’m only 22. There are still so many ways it could go. A lot of people don’t have a job at 22. If I started looking for a new job or something now, hopefully I’ll have one by 25. Then it’s still okay because I’m only 25. I don’t know, I always find that… I could go on for a long time about this. I think those predetermined milestones/goals of things that you must have achieved by a certain age, I just think it’s bullshit.

W: I sometimes make the comparison that people too often see life as the sports world. Football players who are good until 35 and then they are done. As if you must have already performed before that age. That’s not how it works. You really have all the time and you really don’t have to stress. I also notice that many people… you mentioned re-exams. That people say “fuck I have re-exams, oh no I’m not going to pass, oh no you have extra…” chill. You do your best, but suppose you have to repeat a year, that’s not a disaster either, is it?

E: What I also think is crazy is how many people have studied law and you eventually hear that they ended up in a marketing agency because they found it much more interesting. When I talk to some people who… I was seeing a social media manager recently [laughs] “seeing”, I was talking to him.

W: “seeing” okay [laughs].

E: I was talking to him.

W: [joking] Ender has something to say.

E: And I asked “what did you study?” and he said biochemistry. “How the fuck did you end up here?” Him: “uh yeah that just wasn’t the right fit for me. I have a master’s degree but I started working here because I found it much more interesting”. I thought: why am I pretending that the degree I’m trying to get is going to determine the rest of my life, you know?

W: Absolutely.

E: If there are so many people now… because he was only 28 or something. So I thought “aah okay so you’ve been studying biochemistry for so many years and now you’re here – I don’t know if I’m talking about the correct position – but now you’re just sitting here making content. Cool. But why do I attach so much importance to that one direction I’m studying right now that doesn’t even have anything to do with media or anything. I mean I’m very interested in media, I’m studying economics. Which is also interesting, but that’s not what I see myself doing in the coming years.

W: Yeah, yeah.

E: Anyway enough about me. Do you think you could win in a fight against a cow?

W: [laughs] I really like that. You can switch to totally different shit like that. Like before you suddenly asked what color fish do you want to be. Okay. That’s nice. Win… I’ve heard if you knock over a cow it dies. That it has a heart attack then. We don’t want to kill cows okay!

E: And purely hypothetical, you’re just standing in a kind of meadow so it’s not super big so you can’t go in all directions. There is a limited domain. You come face to face with that cow and you have to begin. No weapons. You’re standing there and the cow stands there and you both know you’re going to fight.

W: It knows that too?

E: It knows that too.

W: [makes mooing noises] okay ca va.

E: It’s not a bull but it does have horns so in fact it would-

W: I would shit my pants. I’d give up already. I would lie on the ground, come on. Really crazy, I saw Jackass recently. Those guys, that Wee Man, who was in that link with the bull and he’s being catapulted, so to speak.

E: I don’t understand how those guys aren’t all dead yet.

W: Yeah they are really crazy.

E: There was also a rumor that Wee Man died from a bowling ball during… but apparently that wasn’t true.

W: I don’t know.

E: Fucked up shit. Would you win against a cow?

W: Would I win against a cow? No, I wouldn’t win against a cow. I don’t think I would win against a cow.

E: I think I would. I think just like with a bull I would try to jump out of the way like that and once you’re on the side it’s just a matter of pushing. If what you said is true, it’s game over when it’s down and you know, that’s your tactic.

W: But the thing is, a cow is heavy, isn’t it?

E: True.

W: You can’t just push it over like that, can you?

E: Sure, but it’s a matter of life or death, isn’t it? The adrenaline rush. You have to image, a cow just comes running towards you. The adrenaline that goes through your body. You shouldn’t underestimate the power you have then.

W: Just find the best patch of grass and when it’s there, sneaky knife in the back. No, now people are going to think I’m that kind of person.

E: That you’re just a snake.

W: Snake. Definitely and I admit it. No, that would be fucked up.

E: I’m going to do one more thing that’s important. I’m going to find a Twitter shout out and in the meantime, I already asked you what your message is to the world and that was a beautiful message. Got something more banal that you’d like to share? Something that you want to share from your social media or something?

W: What do you mean from social media?

E: Where they can follow you. You can say something if you have a really good video that you want to share. “Check me everywhere”.

W: No I don’t have… people should do what they feel like doing. Do you think I’m cool, do you think I’m fun, follow me on Insta. No really doesn’t matter. Doesn’t really matter.

E: Alright, I’m just going to scroll and you say stop. I’ll go back and forth and you have to say “yes that’s the one who gets to have this week’s shout out”.

W: Exciting huh. Stop.

E: [reads twitter account] M. Verschuren.

W: M. Verscheure.

E: Is that…

W: [reads quote] “If you were never sad, you wouldn’t know you could be happy”.

E: Wow. Damn bro.

W: I’m going to edit my quote.

E: “If you were never sad, you wouldn’t know you could be happy”. Wow. If you didn’t have shitty days, you wouldn’t know what the best days of your life were.

W: Exactly. But what if you get stuck in your shitty days for the rest of your life?

E: That won’t happen. That’s my biggest fear.

W: Me too.

E: Looking back at your life and thinking-

W: …Fuck I’ve never been there again.

E: …That’s where I peeked. Hope that doesn’t happen. Anyway M. Verscheure thank you very much for listening, I really appreciate it. You as well, I think?

W: Absolutely, absolutely. How much were you going to pay me?

E: 50 euro.

W: Then I’ll come… awesome. Super cool.

E: Thank you so much to everyone who listened. I appreciate it. If you want to hear more you can always subscribe to this channel. It’s also good for my ego. I’ll just put your Instagram link in the description, for people who are interested. Okay, that was it.

W: Thanks, it was fun.

E: There’s an audio only episode on Spotify every Sunday and the video comes out on Monday. That’s it. See you next Monday. Or Sunday. Peace.

[littlemissnoname13]

Fortunate Misfortune (D.M x Reader)| Chapter 8: Weasley & Weasley

Summary: Its his last year at Hogwarts and former Hogwarts bully, Draco Malfoy just wants to clean up his act and get through the year. Maybe even apply for a potions fellowship and date Astoria Greengrass. His plan seems perfect on paper except for a minor hiccup in the form of a feisty Hufflepuff girl…

A/n: This multi-chapter has been in my Drafts since before I started posting on here and I’ve used so many scenes from it and turned them into one shots in the past. The series is almost completed and ill just be dumping it on my blog because I don’t know what to do with it. Please do not feel pressured to read it. 😅🥲.

Reblogs and Feedbacks are always welcomed :)

special shout out to @lilmissquackson & @vodkandjin​ I ended up keeping most of the parts thanks to you guys.

Warnings: Coarse Language, soft!draco, mutual pining, some angst

Words: 1972 give or take

Chapter 7| Masterlist| Chapter 9 (vol. 1)

You were never able to trace back to the beginnings of your friendship with Astoria. You didn’t know how or even why, but she was just around sharing the sweets she’d brought back from home, and understanding you when the world just seemed to shun you for simply being you. 

“Sweets are a great way to make friends.” She would always say and you’d begrudgingly agree, stuffing your mouth full with licorice wands and chocolate frogs. 

Some days the two of you would just sit in silence and some days you’d complain about everything that was wrong in this twisted little world.

Your friendship was tacit and quiet. There was never the need to show the world that you were friends. 

And now, Astoria was sick.

Your only friend was sick and there was nothing you could do about it. 

You ran as far from the courtyard as possible till the only sounds in the air were that of muffled laughter and faint music from the frog choir reminiscent of music from the Elizabethan era. 

Sinking on the cold floor, with your arms wrapped around your knees, you fought back the tears that were on the verge of spilling from your lined eyes. 

“Y/n? I saw you run from the party so I followed.” 

You looked up, sniffling to find Astoria standing in front of you, her left hand rubbing her right arm as she contemplated walking closer. 

“You know.” Her voice cracked when she realised the reason behind your tears and you nodded at her, still a sniffling mess. 

Astoria hurriedly got rid of her heels and walked over to you before sinking on the ground next to you. She placed a tired arm around your shoulders and you rested your head on hers.

“I do.” You said quietly and tilted your head upward to look up at the sky. The pale white moon was tucked away between wispy almost feather-like clouds. 

It was a grim sight. Fitting for the situation. 

“I’m sorry, Astoria.” You began. “You should have listened to Daphne and everyone else. You can’t keep making excuses for me. Fuck, you even got diagnosed with—”

“Excuses?” She backed away looking almost offended. “You’re my best friend y/n. I don’t say that enough or at all, but you are and I am not making excuses. I just think the rumours are utter rubbish.” 

“How can they be rubbish?” You exclaimed, frustrated. “Look at what’s happening to you!” 

“Nothing is happening to me.” She stated firmly and you looked at her with a tiny glimmer of hope in your eyes. “Nothings happening to me….yet.” 

You narrowed your eyes at her and she shrugged, fighting hard to maintain a smile even though her lips were wobbling. 

“How long?” 

“A couple years, five years, I don’t know yet.” She sighed, finally letting her tears pool over and you pulled her into a hug, sobbing. 

You couldn’t tell how long the two of you sat there but the sky had started to replace the dark blue hues with a lighter shade. 

“So, what happened with Blaise tonight?” Astoria asked as she tied the straps of her shoes. 

“Nothing.” You mumbled. “Well we almost kissed, but then I don’t know, I couldn’t.” 

“But you have been dying to kiss him for the longest time!” 

“Thank you for reminding me.” You scoffed. “How were things with Malfoy though? You do like him right?” 

“I did—I do...” She trailed off. “I don’t know, maybe I’m overanalysing but there was something missing between us.” 

~~~

“Morning Hufflepuff.” Draco smirked when you sat down on your usual assigned seat next to him.

“Hmm.” You muttered back, trying your hardest to ignore that tingly feeling inside of you. 

“So, how was it?” Draco lowered his voice as Snape entered the classroom. His head was still turned towards you but his left hand was flipping the pages of the potions textbook like he knew every page by heart. 

“It was fine.” You said weakly, as you took note of the ingredients snape was talking about. Your brain was a haphazard mess and you did not want to forget the instructions for brewing the potion. God forbid, you land into another detention. 

“Are you sure?” He whispered, now placing his hand on top of yours. “Because Blaise told me that—”

“How was your night?” You cut him off, swiftly retrieving your hand away from his. 

“Fine.” He muttered back curtly, as your shared cauldron started to bubble. “I'm meeting Astoria in the common room later.” 

You didn’t know a thing about brewing vertiaserum but Draco somehow knew every step like it was wired into his system. He was careful with the ingredients—when, how much, what amount. His shirt sleeves were rolled all the way up to his elbows and the veins on his arm protruded every time he stirred the cauldron. 

How can someone manage to look like that while doing something so mundane?

“Someone’s been studying.” You mumbled, still looking at him, dropping the ladle back into the cauldron. “I am right to presume that you have finished your fellowship application?”

“Completed and submitted.” He sighed. “Waiting for a response, now that's the hard part.”

It seemed like no one in class except Draco had even managed to make a clear and odourless potion like the book instructed. Not even Hermione Granger and you could easily make out the smugness now appearing on his face. 

Typical Malfoy.

His smugness didn't even get to last a few minutes though. 

Before Snape could even walk up to your desk and look at the potion, Pansy Parkinson casually passed by and dropped a foreign Ingredient that wasn’t called for in the recipe. 

What happened next annoyed both you, Draco and Professor Snape. 

Your cauldron started to smoke and bubble over, spilling slimy green liquid all around your desk and onto the floor. 

That’s how it began.

The war with Pansy Parkinson. 

Prank wars begin rather innocently at first. They seem like Harmless little acts to get the last laugh. 

You weren’t going to let the potions incident slide, and neither was Draco. 

Draco courteously let you into the Slytherin common room after class and Astoria gave you the directions to Pansy’s room and where she kept her precious shampoo. 

What happened the next day was unforgettable to say the least when a bleached blonde Pansy Parkinson walked into the great hall, fuming. 

Of course Pansy retaliated by enchanting the plants in your room that you barely cared for to grow tenfold and cover every piece of furniture you owned in a tangled mess. 

In order to restore peace and put an end to the prank war once and for all, you had to seek help from two rather legendary pranksters.

It was the only way.

~~~

Draco hid behind a stone pillar at the Astronomy tower and watched you watch the grounds while nervously tapping on the railing with your fingernails.

You anxiously checked the time every and then like you were waiting for someone to show up.

Because your back was faced towards him, he could peacefully watch the way your hair swayed gently with the wind and the way your jeans hugged your body. 

He hadn’t gotten a moment alone with you in the last couple of days following the party. You always seemed to be wrapped up with homework and whatever warfare you had going on with Pansy. 

Draco had even asked you if you wanted to go to four broomsticks with him last night and you had quickly declined his invite before proceeding to shut the door on his face. 

Had he done something wrong to make you act this way? 

What actually happened with Blaise?

What was going on between you and Pansy? 

So many questions but no answers.

“You’re stalking me.” You said, with your back still facing him. The tone of your voice suggested that you were aware of his watchful eyes this whole time. 

“You’re avoiding me.” He decided to say as he walked up next to you before reclining against the railing to watch life pass by in the school ground below him. 

You simply shrugged and continued to stand next to him and your nonchalance frustrated him. How you managed to remain calm when he was out there feeling his turmoil grow was beyond him.

“Are you?” He asked again and this time, you turned to face him. 

“No.”

“I don’t believe you for a second.” He stated firmly, as he maintained eye contact. 

“Why does it matter If I’m avoiding you Draco?” You sighed frustratedly, nostrils now flaring. The Hungarian Horntail he knew was back. “We had a deal. I help you with Astoria and you help me with Blaise.There was nothing beyond that. You know it and I know it!”

“Nothing?!” Draco jeered, suddenly seeing red all around him. His blood was pumping and pressure was building. He quickly rubbed his face before settling to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

 “Absolutely nothing, y/n?”

“Want me to spell it out for you, Malfoy?” You seethed, with your chest heaving as you turned away from him.

In his mind, he began to wonder if this was in fact the end of it all.

End of the cozy nights spent at four broomsticks, end of those early mornings in the courtyard. He’d miss that run down kettle in your room. He’d miss the look you gave him when your stomach growled as a result of skipping dinner. He’d miss your lips. 

God, he’d miss those lips. 

“You can keep pretending like nothing is happening between us, Y/L/n.” He said, grabbing you by the arm before you could walk away from him. “But for how long?—It is happening. It’s happening this very second.”

“Fine!” You barked back at him. “Something is happening. Is that what you want me to say?! I left my big date with Blasie to come and see you at the Party. I don’t know why I did it but I just couldn’t help myself.”

“You came?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to—I—Just forget it, Draco.” You sighed, and he reluctantly let go of your hand and watched you start to walk away from him. 

One slow step at first, and then two and then three. On your fifth step away from him, you paused. Draco maintained his gaze on you and the way you clenched your fingers into a fist, like you are still bubbling with rage. 

“Draco—”  You said as you whirled around and took a step back towards him. 

Your eyes looked conflicted like you were considering the option of running away from him again but this time around, he wasn’t going to let you. 

Instead, he did something he’d been wanting to do since the minute he saw you at the tower.

Walking right up to you, Draco tilted your chin up and captured your lips in his. 

You stood there frozen and he half expected you to push him away. You even lifted your arm to do so.

But as the seconds passed, your hands ranked themselves onto his hair, deepening the kiss even further.

The way you moved your lips against his made him feel feelings he wasn’t capable of understanding or deciphering yet. All he knew was that he wanted to kiss you for as long as possible.

“Who knew Malfoy was the romantic type?” A very familiar voice startled him, making the two of you quickly back away. 

“Do you think his father will be hearing about this, George?” Fred Weasley looked at his twin brother who was now scanning Draco from his head to his toes. 

“Don't you have a joke shop to run at Diagon Alley?” Draco muttered the only response he could think of because In his head, he was still thinking about the way your lips moved against his.

“We do.” The twins said in unison. 

“Then what on earth are you two doing here?”

“We’re here to prank Pansy Parkinson.” 

~~~

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